Saints and Walkers
by Emono
Summary: Daryl stumbles across a pair of brothers with a dark past, Connor and Murphy MacManus. They've survived this long with a few incidents but they need help, they need to join the group. Murphy attracts a lot of attention, but Daryl can't help but find Connor fascinating. Connor/Daryl, Murph/Glenn, slash, smut, h/c, SPOILERS, Boondock Saints xover, bamf-ness. Full summary inside
1. Before the Fever

******I plan on doing one chapter per episode of TWD, each one depicting the MacManus Twins being incorporated into and becoming part of the group. I warn you now this isn't going to be a G-rated story. I'm talking steamy dreams, over-touchy but not incestuous situations, blatant flirting with lots of people, angles of non-con you wouldn't believe, but nothing involving the dead. Not really.**

**Give it a chance, pretty please? At least follow it and stop in once in a while to see if it's any good?**

* * *

The rain always brought out the worst in their little hovel. He loved their place, there was no doubt, but every crack in the ceiling trickled water and it was getting a bit depressing. The sound was nice, though. It was a lovely echo off the tile and cement, creating a soundtrack to his evening.

Connor was alone on his bed, legs stretched out in front of him while his back was braced on the wall behind him. He stared off at nothing in particular, lost in his thoughts and the sounds of the storm outside. His eyes traced the far wall idly, counting off the minutes in time with the cracked clock on the floor. He shook another cigarette out of his pack and snatched his lighter off the sheet, flicking it open and aflame in seconds. He sucked in the heat and filled his lungs with smoke, enjoying the sweet rush of nicotine before letting it cloud the air.

Three hours. It had been exactly three hours and seventeen minutes since Murphy had left on his own. He'd spouted off something stupid about getting drunk and forgetting his bloody dream before dashing out, throwing on his coat halfway out the door without so much as a look back. Murphy had been pacing and huffing for two days, something dark on his mind that he wouldn't share. He claimed it was their new job, the gunfire, the risk – but he knew it wasn't true. They both enjoyed it, maybe more than they should've, so it had to be something else.

They knew each other like no one else. They fit into every moment, niche, and scene in each other's lives. Two halves of the same soul, split only by body and a minute of time. Together in the crib, on the playground, in the classroom, at work...in life. Why would Murphy keep something from him? They shared everything but a bed, why would he want to keep a fear from him?

There was a faint noise outside. On instinct he grabbed his gun, keeping the cigarette balanced between his lips as he braced his weapon hand on the thick of his wrist. It would be a perfect, steady shot. The door flew open to reveal the soaked form of his twin, dark hair plastered to his head and jeans twice as dark as before.

He looked pathetic.

Murphy's eyes widened when he saw the gun, flinching so hard his back hit the door. Connor lowered it immediately, motioning him inside with a flick of his fingers. Murphy obeyed and shut the door behind him, sloshing like a wet rat. He kicked off his boots and peeled off his socks, working on his jacket and shirt next. The beads of his rosary stuck to his damp skin, the cross clinging to his smooth stomach.

Connor shoved his gun back between the mattresses, "Jesus _wept,_ ya scared me."

There was a red tint to his dark eyes, the sway in his first few steps revealing his state.

"Oi! Be careful," Connor called from the bed, taking the fag from his mouth, "You're gonna break 'yer neck flailin' about like that."

"Shut 'yer gob," Murphy slurred, passing his own bed in favor of his brother's.

"Hey, hey, hey now!" Connor barked as the other plopped down on his bed, "You're wetter than Thursday's angel. Shove off!"

But one look from his brother's glazed eyes and he gave in, huffing roughly.

Murphy lazily crawled closer, throwing his head into his brother's lap and curling around him like a cat. Connor couldn't stay mad for one second when his brother was showing a rare vulnerability, sighing softly and just barely nuzzling into his thigh. It was a silent cry for comfort and he wasn't going to deny him. With a light touch he put his fingers in his brother's dark hair, almost teasing it.

"Didya have a good time?" Connor asked, getting a little grunt in response. He tilted his brother's head back to get a look at his face, thumb tucked under his chin.

"Didya find some sour tail or something?"

"Nothin' but that nasty Carolyn, had 'er hands all over me," Murphy scoffed.

The blonde rested his head back against the wall, taking another hit, "Sad to see a pretty girl like that throwin' herself everywhere."

"Try to say that when she's got her bitter breath in your face."

Connor stroked his hair a little harder, glad to have his brother home and safe. His brother was a dirty kind of handsome, smooth hips with as sharp jaw line. Dark, deep eyes that the girls loved so much along with a strong chest that mirrored his own.

"You hungry, Brother?" Connor asked, lowering the cigarette to hover in front of Murphy's face. His brother parted his lips and took the end between them, sucking in a full breath of sweet smoke. Connor smiled gently, letting him take as much as he wanted.

"Nah," Murphy replied, one hand curled under his brother's leg while the other trailed up his bare arm.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Gonna waste away on me," Connor cursed, taking the cigarette back to puff hard, "Somethin' on your mind, Murph?"

The darker haired man shrugged against his brother's knee, "Nothin' to talk about."

Connor hummed in agreement, "Aye. Your head's a bit too thick to have much in it anyway."

Murphy punched his leg to get a yelp from the blonde, "Shut it, alright?"

"Fine, fine, keep your secrets," Connor handed over the cigarette only to get a big puff of smoke in his face, "Ungrateful brat."

**xXx**

_The Next Night_

Connor took the windowsill across the room as a seat, legs stretched out along the white plaster siding. He was pressed from shoulder to knee against the cool glass of the window, the rain still going strong from yesterday. Four burnt stubs lay in a pile of ash of the floor beside him, the fifth wedged between his lips. He looked out into the slick alley for signs of life but found none. It was a quiet night in the neighborhood. He yawned around the stub, acrid billows of white pouring over his lips as he did.

Murphy's nightmares were starting to leak into his own. He thanked God for his insomnia. He'd rather stay up on his own merit, smoke and ponder, than be forced awake multiple times a night by horrific bloody images. His poor brother was tossing and turning right now, blanket kicked to the floor. Sweat beaded along the curve of his back, soaked into his hair, and stung his clenched eyes.

"Murph," Connor sighed, heart aching.

His brother started to scream, thrashing so hard he knocked his pillow a few feet away and the stand beside the bed over. The cigarette dropped to the floor, sparks flying up to light the way for bare feet to race across their flat.

Connor launched himself in bed with his brother, grabbing his arms and pushing them down onto the mattress, "Murphy! Murph, stop! It's me! It's Connor, sweetheart, it's your brother."

Murphy was releasing strangled sobs that broke his brother's heart, clawing at thin air as if to fight something off. Connor dared to release his wrists in favor of cupping his face, begging him over and over to just wake up. He winced as Murphy's nails raked over his neck and across his shoulders like he was the attacker.

Murphy's eyes snapped open, searching frantically for the creatures from his nightmares.

"Sweetheart," Connor cooed, running his thumbs across his brother's sharp cheekbones, "Murph, it's alright. I'm here."

"Conn?" his voice was shaking and his face was wet with tears, confusion written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm here," Connor assured him, keeping their gazes locked, "Come back to me."

"Jesus," Murphy was trying not to sob, clawing fingers softening to a desperate cling.

"What was in there?" the blonde twin inquired, trying not to push, "What's plaguin' ya, brother mine?"

"Nasty things with teeth and they smelled like...like death," Murphy gasped, trying to sit up but the other stopped him, "I-I can't do this, I can't breathe or sleep or eat without those_things_ screwing with my head."

"Maybe we should call Da," Connor offered, keeping his voice gentle, "Maybe it's some kind 'a-"

"If you say _demon_, I'm going to smack you so hard you'll taste stars," Murphy rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the old sheet covering the mattress. Connor didn't move away but he did lay on his side, stroking his fingers through his brother's lengthening dark tresses and along his shoulders. The touch was soothing. Murphy soon relaxed beneath his brother's fingers, tucking his arms up beneath his head as a make-shift pillow.

"Alright, have it your way," Connor pecked a kiss on the back of the man's neck, getting a little smile and snuff (it was a ticklish spot of his), "I won't call Da."

They spent a few more quiet minutes like this, listening to the rain and enjoying each other.

"Maybe..." Connor wet his lips, digging his fingers in a little harder to work his brother's stiff muscles, "Maybe we should take a break. Go on little huntin' trip, jus' you and me. No more of this Saint stuff for a while. Somewhere calmin' and warm."

Murphy made a distressed sound, "Yer not wantin' to go back home, are you?"

"No, nothin' as drastic as that," Connor promised, scratching the itch he knew his brother had just along his shoulder, "Maybe somewhere with a dry heat that brings out the deer, huh? I can finally get good with a bow an' arrow."

"Better you than me" Murphy chuckled, eyes falling shut. He knew his brother was the one with a brain for planning, half-witted and stolen as they were – they still worked. The times they hunted in Ireland it was his brother who brought home the rabbits, fingers identical to his own only more deft at tying up snares. He always fumbled with them and made them wrong, a bow more foreign in his hands than an accordion. Without a day of training in him, Connor picked up a bow and shot an arrow across the field. They found the tip stuck in a tree, dead in the middle and set sturdy.

Connor dropped down to lay on the bed beside him, one hand still splayed across his twin's back, "It was just a thought. Never mind now, go to sleep. I'll stay up and-"

"No," Murphy turned over on his side, bringing them face to face, "Maybe a huntin' trip is what I need. Where were you thinkin'?"

Connor wrinkled up his nose, putting some real thought into it. Murphy mocked his face, getting them both to laugh.

"I know," Connor sat up, looking pleased with himself, "How about Georgia?"

* * *

**Here's how this story is going to go. I'm just going to write stuff, and you're just going to take it as true. Anything I change/delete/add is on purpose. There's going to be some outstanding changes and wild concepts. Let's just...go with it and enjoy the story.**

**Review in love and joy? **


	2. Before the Group Part I

**All I have to say is Review and Follow, my dears. Review and Follow.**

* * *

Daryl chose to take the morning perimeter check in favor of getting out of Merle's tent. He didn't want to sleep outside but he sure as hell couldn't spend another minute with that fucker. Always bitching about wanting to be the leader, about how Shane didn't know shit, how they should just pack up and leave. There were two big reasons to stay that Merle either didn't seem to know or care about. One: Without the Dixon brothers hunting, the group wouldn't eat. Two: Daryl was afraid that another stretch of time with just Merle would result in a bolt through his big brother's eye. He loved the guy, they were kin and they were all they had left in the world, but he wasn't afraid to strangle him.

There was strength in numbers. That rang just as true as before the geeks invaded.

Daryl checked the end of his crossbow with a scowl, spotting only five arrows left out of his dozen set. There had to be some kind of hunting store still standing somewhere in Atlanta. Much longer and he'd be shit out of luck. His bow was his but if he ran out there was no way Shane would share a gun. He was a pretty good shot but bullets hurt the meat. The squirrels on his back all had a hole right through the head, the rest of their bodies perfect for consumption.

Daryl froze, mind going blank. There was a noise, a steady crunch of leaves under feet. He crouched behind a tree, breath evening out to a quiet rasp as he cocked his head up to listen closer. It was too fast to be a grazing deer and too slow for a squirrel on the ground. It had to be a person. Or a walker. A soft voice filtered through the trees, someone singing lowly in a language he didn't know. Walkers didn't sing. Not that pretty. The footsteps got closer, coming further up the hill now. He set his crossbow out, slipping an arrow in the slide before bracing it. He counted off the seconds with each breath, keeping track of the footsteps until he was sure the person was close.

Daryl shifted too hard, a twig snapped beneath his heel. The singing cut off abruptly. Fuck. He'd been spotted.

Daryl grit his teeth and sprung to his feet, crossbow moved high to take the shot as he moved around the tree out into the open, "Don't move!"

**xXx**

Time stopped.

Daryl had read a decent amount of books in his life and he'd found more than half of them too fanciful. Boy meets girl, they instantly fall in love? Crap. The knight shows up just in time to save the princess? Bullshit. The bullet hits the Bible in your pocket? Not likely. The young hero finds the perfect master just before the big battle? Whatever. He was a realist, he knew how things really were. In Daryl's world the girl rolled with you once before jacking your wallet, the princess got eaten by the dragon, the bullet goes straight through your head, and the "hero" gets his ass kicked all over the battlefield.

But this..._this_ was different, this was straight out of a story.

The world crawled to a stop around him, the breeze rustling through the leaves the only sound in existence. Through the sights of the crossbow he saw an angel. The being had taken the form of a man with tan skin and golden hair. The sun hit right behind him, outlining his lithe figure in rays of light. The angel wielded a pitch black recurve bow, an arrow notched in front of his face and pointed straight at the Dixon's head.

Daryl couldn't breathe. His crossbow dipped, he stared like a gob-smacked redneck at the figure on top of the hill.

And just like _that_ the clouds shifted, covering up some of the harshest points of the sun. His angel transformed into a man no older than twenty five with a surprised expression upon his handsome face. Daryl wet his lips and forced his crossbow back up, aiming.

"You bit?"

The slighter man lowered his bow and knelt down, studying the hunter with a critical eye.

"I'm talkin' to you!" Daryl barked.

"Aye, I hear you just fine," the man drawled, still examining him, "I'm not bit."

Daryl refused to lower his weapon.

The man suddenly grinned, "Are those squirrels?"

**xXx**

Daryl did something he didn't often do. He blindly followed.

The archer had put up a convincing argument of game trade, promising to keep his arrows in his quiver.

"_You can stay behind me the whole time. Shoot me if I move too fast and all that."_

Maybe it was the flash of time stopping, maybe it was the blinding sun behind the archer, it didn't matter. Daryl had silently agreed to come along. The nameless man was walking just a few feet in front of him, bow slung across his shoulders so it bumped his hip with every step. The man was young and fit, looking just as natural as himself here in the woods. Jeans still dark with dye sat low on his hips, a blood colored t-shirt with the sleeves torn off clung across his back. His palms were clad in rich, fingerless leather. Buttery smooth from fingertip to the peak of wrist just below the lining-

_Don't let me catch you lookin' at a man like that again, Darylena, or I'll pluck those fuckin' eyes out._

Daryl flinched, jerking his head to the side as Merle's words rung sharp in his ears. God damn it! It'd been years since this kind of issue had come up. He may be bigoted and racist as fuck but he didn't see nothing wrong with two guys making a night of things. It's not like women were a big turn off, who didn't like some soft curves and sweet skin in their bed? Plump breasts and red lips were enough to fuel any man's dreams. But once in a while when he had a few beers in him and the right itch, he'd go out to the right bars and find some slim waisted guy with the right attitude to take home.

Merle found out about his cravings two years ago after he'd gotten out of jail, coming home to find his little brother with a flat-chested partner in his lap. They'd both gone to the hospital that night due to Merle's fists, the kid he'd brought home had nearly died while he ended up with a broken arm and some busted up ribs.

No, Merle didn't take too kindly to his wandering eye.

"You okay back there?" the man inquired, trying not for the first time to get him to talk.

Daryl sniffed sharply, "How far's this camp of yours?"

"Just a little ways east, further up the hill where the dead don't bother to roam," the archer gestured upward, "What about you?"

Daryl wrinkled up his nose, "What _about_ me?"

"Do you just wander around the woods by your lonesome?" the man turned around, still walking backward, "Is there a pack 'a you running about?"

"There's more than a dozen of us due west, we've got a camp," Daryl let it slip before he meant to, "And don't think for one minute we're-"

"Whoa, slow it down, squirrel boy," the archer laughed, a hearty sound, "We're not going to turn over your camp in the night or nothing. Don't waste your breath. We're not wanting."

"Really?" Daryl hefted his string of squirrels a little higher up on his shoulder, "All out here in the middle like this?"

"Technically, we're all out in the middle" the archer laughed.

Daryl still wasn't sure if he believed the Irishman or not but he seemed pleasant enough, hands staying far away from the arrows. The hunter's eyes wandered down again to settle at his ankles, spotting the curve of a buck knife hidden just beneath the denim. He could spot two more throwing knives on his belt, shirt hem fluttering across them in an almost teasing manner.

He couldn't let his guard down around this leprechaun.

The archer pushed aside some branches and a small clearing came into view, leaves and debris cleared away to make a ring around a two-person tent. There was a shirtless man with dark hair crouched in front of a cleverly constructed fire tee-pee. He was cursing up a storm as he tried to light some dry scraggly timber, lighting it with his lighter but blowing into it too hard for the spark to catch properly.

The man looked familiar. Daryl never forgot a face that reminded him of his own, their sharp jaw lines the same and the mark on the cheeks nearly identical. The younger man's hair was darker than his own, paler, eyes so much bluer. There was a cigarette tucked behind his ear. A dark rosary hung around his neck, long enough for the cross at the end to skim across his belt line. Daryl's eyes caught the scars and tattoos littering the man's body, lingering on a few in particular. There were ragged curves along his stomach forming a circle, forming the shape of a bite mark. But they were dark red, months old. Scars of the same color circled the man's wrists, rough and all the way around as if he'd been restrained.

They'd met but he couldn't remember where.

The flames failed to catch and the man growled loudly, tossing the timber down, "Fuck this stupid fuckin' fire!"

"Murph," the archer spoke up, catching the man's attention, "We have a guest."

Daryl felt the sting of those oh-so-bright eyes as they burned into him, assessing every inch of his body like a predator. The hunter puffed up to make himself bigger, refusing to show fear.

"Murph?" Daryl smirked, "What kind of name is 'Murph'?"

"Me name's fine," the dark haired man stood up, wiping his ash-stained palms on his jeans, "Doubt yours is much better."

The archer looked to him expectantly, wondering the same thing.

"Connor," the blonde pointed at himself, then the other, "Murphy. The MacManus brothers."

"Brothers, huh?" Daryl spat on the ground "How the hell you survive out here this long not being able to start a fire?"

"I ain't no boy scout," Murphy kicked at the stones surrounding the little fire pit, "I'll kill anything in arm's length, I'll put a bullet in a man's eye from fifty feet, I'll cook the fuck outta what you bring me, but I'm not doin' this tent-pitching-fire-making bullshit no more!"

"Calm down, brother mine," Connor teased, taking off his bow and quiver to set them against one of the log's they'd dragged to use as seats. He crouched down to scoop the timber back up between his palms, holding it out to get another zip of his brother's lighter. Murphy obeyed with a sulky expression, setting the flame inside for a a few moments. Daryl watched Connor blow gently into the bundle, the smell of hot leather filling the air right before he dumped the smoldering remains into the pit. With just a bit more coaxing it came to life, eating up at the sticks like hungry red tongues.

Murphy crowed in triumph, slipping his cigarette into his mouth before dipping down low in the dirt. He lit his cigarette in the fire, sending puffs of creamy smoke up into the air. Murphy reared up and threw his arms around, praising his brother.

"All hail the fire-king!"

"Shut up!" Connor knocked him over, getting the man to roll for a second before he perched himself on a log with crossed legs. The blonde stood, picking up a string of rabbits nearly identical to the hunter's own squirrel line up off a log.

Murphy finally noticed the red neck's catch, "Are those squirrels?"

Daryl nodded, holding them out like an offering.

"Finally," Murphy glared at his brother, sucking in another hit, "Conn here can't shoot 'em right."

"Look at 'is, though," Connor approached the hunter, examining the game, "Right in the eye. You can eat the whole thing, you can."

Daryl caught his gaze, holding it longer than was civil. Connor froze under his stare like one of the rabbits tied to his string, head still ducked to get a better look at the food.

"Daryl," the hunter's voice was no higher than a breath, "Daryl Dixon."

Connor smiled, bright enough to light his entire face, "Nice to meet 'ya, Daryl Dixon."

Murphy watched them stare at each other for another minute or so before he snatched a pine cone off the ground and chucked it. It smacked into the back of his brother's head, forcing a curse to spill from his lips.

"Hey!"

"Would you quit starin' at him and make a decent trade, already?" Murphy demanded, stomach growling loudly in protest.

"The rabbits are bigger, got a bit more meat on 'em," Connor stated, untying a few critters, "What do you say? Three Cottontails for two of yer squirrels?"

"Deal," Daryl didn't even hesitate to hand over the brown game, guilt welling up in him as soon as he started tying their heads onto his string, "Not quite fair, is it?"

"Murph and I don't eat much, we just want a bit more variety is all," Connor promised, tossing the string at his brother, "Skin 'em, would ya?"

"Ain't the boss 'o me," Murphy muttered, cigarette wedged tight between his lips as he pulled a hunting knife from his boot.

"Want to stay?" the blonde offered lightly, "Share a meal and give the rest to yer camp?"

Murphy's ears perked up at the mention of other people but he didn't say anything.

Daryl looked between them, still uneasy, "I should scram."

"Yeah, go on," Connor tried to smile it off, "We'll, uh...see you around, yeah?"

Daryl actually cracked a grin, "Not if we don't end up shooting each other in the head out there next time."

"Please don't shoot the nice man, Conn," Murphy scolded, slicing a rabbit open from neck to groin, "If he's goin' to give me a reprieve from these lucky-foots then I need him alive a bit longer."

"Agreed," Connor didn't seem to want to move away, still standing in front of the hunter, "You know where we are."

"Yeah," Daryl was the first to step back, that one simple movement harder than usual, "I do."

**xXx**

Connor awoke to a shuffling sound, brow furrowing up as he lifted his head. The tent flap was firmly shut and there were no strange moving shadows outside. What could've...?

"Murph?" Connor cleared his throat, trying again, "Murph? 'S that you?"

"Sorry."

"Scared me for a second," Connor rolled onto his back, looking over to his sibling. Murphy was laying flat on his back beside him, hands tucked behind his head as he stared up at the stars through the unzipped flat of the ceiling. The mesh revealed the brilliant, clear stars. It was so much easier to see the sky without the blinding lights of Atlanta to muck up the sky.

That thought hit him in the gut, reminding him yet again how far the human race had fallen.

"You okay?" Connor asked, rubbing his thumb into his eyes to get them to clear a bit, "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Nah, was just thinkin' a bit."

"About what?"

Murphy's white teeth flashed in the dark of the tent, that bastard was grinning, "About that strappin' young squirrel hunter?"

Connor groaned and rolled back over, throwing the blanket over his head, "No! No, no, Murph, no. We're not talking about this. I'm tired."

"I knew it!" his brother shot up, shaking the blonde's shoulder, "I fuckin' _knew_ you were lookin' at him!"

"Course I was lookin' at him," Connor huffed, trying to shake the other off, "We talked. It's the polite thing to do."

"You weren't being polite," Murphy corrected, yanking the blanket down until he could see his brother's eyes, "Admit it, Conn, you would've shot anyone that close to camp right between the eyes. Without thinkin'. He made you hesitate!"

"He hesitated too!" Connor defended, "Neither of us look dead, that's all."

"After those thugs-"

"Don't!" Connor snapped, sitting up and throwing his brother's hand off, "It's like three in the bloody mornin' and-"

"After. Those. Thugs" Murphy spat, refusing to back down, "You don't trust anyone. I know you don't. Dixon could've been the same! He could've slit your throat with that knife of his, found this camp, shot a bolt between my eyes-"

"Shut up!"

"-and _stolen_ _our_ _game,_" Murphy hissed, grabbing the blonde's face to force him to look at him, "You know it, I know it, and _he_ sure as hell knows it. You were careless and that means you let your guard down for some hot southern twang and a pair of good lookin' arms."

Connor looked away, guilty as charged.

Murphy softened at that look, "I'm not scoldin', I'm statin'. That's what happened today. Brother, _you_ put yourself in charge of this little operation."

"Murph-"

"Don't act like it's not true," Murphy grinned again, patting the blonde's cheek, "I know you're protectin' me, just like you always have."

"We protect _each_ _other,_" Connor tried to counter, "No one's in charge."

The darker twin gave him a hard look, "Conn, come on. If the huntin' and campin' were up to me, we'd be cannibalistic mountain men by now."

Connor managed to smile at that, "Yeah. You're rubbish at shootin' anything but a gun."

Murphy dropped his hand from his brother's cheek, "And you're the one who got us out of that house. You killed them."

"For you," Connor admitted.

Murphy knocked his brother in the jaw with his fist, a light-hearted tap, "And that's why I'd follow you to Hell and back."

Murphy flopped back down into their makeshift bed, putting his back to the other, "So gawk and swoon over whoever you want. Just don't try to keep it from me next time."

Connor dropped his head, "Aren't I blessed to have such an understanding brother?"

The joke came off serious and thankful.

"Aye, you are," Murphy grumbled, "Go back to sleep."

Connor hadn't laid down for more than a few minutes before his brother took in a noisy breath, a small laugh echoing through the tent.

"What?" the blonde inquired.

"He is rather handsome, isn't he?"

Connor took his pillow out from under his head and smacked the darker man with it.

Murphy was still laughing as he protected his head, "A bit dirty, though."

"That's it!"

Outside, all you could see was the tent thrashing about. The clearing filled with rambunctious laughter, a welcome sound to the lonely forest.

**xXx**

Daryl wasn't sure what possessed him to keep going back but he did, returning every two days like clockwork with squirrels to trade. He'd come back with hare and the group was happy to see it. Connor was getting better at shooting birds and he'd sometimes have a robin or something to share. They weren't much more meat but they were good for breaking up the monotony,. Half the time Connor would hit the body and pierce something awful but practice was practice.

Murphy had warmed up to him after a week, chatting quick and light with him while his brother traded game. It was nearly two weeks before he decided to sit down and stay a bit, convincing himself that if the brothers wanted him dead he'd be that way.

Daryl learned their strengths pretty quickly. They were both near masters with a gun, their marksmen skills a little off with an arrow but perfect with a bullet. Connor hunted on the ground most of the time, the bow more for protection and deer. He could strategize and barter like a thief, his fingers were skilled with knots and snares, and he was fast. Murphy was a brawler if there ever was one, from what he'd seen the man could cut a person to ribbons with one hand. Murphy's knife play was better than his own.

They were tough but they didn't seem tainted by this world.

Not like Shane, not like most men were now.

Not like he felt.

They were both okay with him but for two strangely different reasons. He wasn't sure what that was about but he was happy for a change from squirrel.

And Connor was particularly good company.

**xXx**

At the end of those two weeks, something started changing.

Daryl muttered something about leaving and stood, hefting his crossbow over his shoulder just as Connor cleared his throat.

"Stay for dinner," Connor nodded to the woodchuck on the fire, "It's almost done."

Daryl made a face, "Nah, man, I can't. They're waitin' on me."

Murphy shot his brother a pointed look but said nothing, slowly turning the meat over the flames.

"Daryl," Connor mocked his sour face, "We all know the pickings were slim today. You'll give all that to your camp and leave next to nothin' for yourself."

"I don't need to eat every day, 's not a big deal," Daryl countered sharply.

"You're the hunter, Dixon, if you lose strength so does the whole group," Connor pointed to the log, "Now sit your dumb arse down and eat. It went take long and your belly will be full."

Daryl found himself doing something else he rarely did.

He obeyed.

**xXx**

Connor dipped his rag back into the pot of boiled water, cleaning the streaks of dried blood off his arrows. He'd run into one of the dead on his trip to the river. Since the camp didn't know about him and his brother he had to take the long way around and that involved dipping into parts of the valley. The dead seemed to fall straight into any sort of dip in the ground. Murphy was laying on the ground with his head against a log, a cigarette burning between his lips as he relaced their boots. He had one of their shoes propped up on his stomach as he worked the new laces in, one of the new supplies they'd picked up when they'd headed into town.

The sound of someone crashing through the woods made them both tense.

By the time Daryl burst through the foliage and into the clearing, Connor had his bow notched and Murphy had a knife between his fingers and ready to launch at their intruder.

"Whoa, y'all," Daryl threw his hands up, a nasty scowl set on his face, "That ain't no way to treat a guest."

The brothers sighed in relief, lowering their weapons.

"Fuckin' squirrel boy," Murphy spat, falling back to lay on the log, "Scared the shit out of us."

"Who you callin' _squirrel_ _boy_, you dumb mick?" Daryl barked, "Fuck you, man!"

"Hey," Connor's voice was soft as he rose to his feet, coming over to the hunter, "What's up? Did something happen?"

Daryl's jaw was clenched so tight it was threatening to snap. Connor searched his face before nodding, flicking his fingers at one of the logs. The hunter kept scowling but the Irishman was insistent.

"Sit."

Daryl dropped his crossbow on the ground, plopping down on the wood with an empty game string along his back. He looked haggard and defeated, a hunter who hadn't seen blood all day. Murphy observed quietly as his brother went over to the tent and dug out a pack of smokes. The blonde came back over and brandished a pack of cigarettes, one stick pushed out invitingly. Daryl eyed him.

"The fuck is that?"

"It'll help," Connor let the man take one, however hesitantly. He sat down and fished for a lighter in his pockets.

"How the hell do you have these?" Daryl was looking at the cigarette with a sneer he didn't really mean "Fuckin' luxury."

"Our family believes in a few things," Connor pulled out the lighter triumphantly, "Hard work, straight aim, good smokes, and hearty laughter. Everything else is just icin'."

"Yeah? How's that workin' out for you?"

"Pretty good," the blonde flashed a grin at the hunter, flicking on the flame, "Here."

Daryl hesitated long enough for the Irishman to feel the burn against his thumb. Daryl slid the cigarette between his lips before leaning in, catching the end in the flame and inhaling. He caught Connor's intense azure stare and held it, his drags of smoke becoming softer as the world slowed down to a crawl. Maybe it was some dark Irish magic or maybe it was the way the sun reflected off those soft blonde spikes, but Connor seemed to have a sway over him. It brought up a strange mixture of frustration and arousal in him.

_Thick hands wrapped around his throat, his brother screaming at him._

Too soon did the moment end.

_You disgusting fuck!_

They pulled away in unison, lowering their eyes to the ground as if even daring to look was a mortal sin.

"Conn and I ain't got nothin' but ammo, smokes, and soap in our bags," Murphy joked, hoping to break the tension, "A pillow or two, some rations, couple guns. Not much else. Don't need anything more, really."

"Fuck, this is good," Daryl took a few long drags, letting the nicotine settle into his lungs, "I haven't had this in a long while."

"We've got enough to slake the need of an army," Murphy tossed aside the boot for another, fingers struggling to get the knots out, "First thing I take in a store. Fuck if I'm going through the apocalypse without some nicotine."

Daryl chuckled around the bud, "You think this is some kind of divine wrath, holy man?"

"Definitely not," Murphy scoffed, "But aren't there dozens of books and shitty movies out there tellin' about the zombie apocalypse? Pretty similar, yeah?"

"Guess so," Daryl mumbled, eyes closed in some sort of content as he basked in his distraction.

Connor held back his opinion, choosing instead to clear his throat and change the subject, "So what happened? No critters?"

"Fuck, man, no _patience,_" Daryl spat, "First night a get a decent sleep and everyone wakes up with their heads up their asses. Shane and Merle wouldn't stop fightin' over every stupid thing that came up. The game can fuckin' _sense_ stuff like that. Forest is bare and I got more than a bunch hungry mouths to feed back there."

Connor scooted closer, "Women and children?"

"Yeah," Daryl plucked the cigarette from his mouth, wetting his lips, "Close to a dozen."

Connor got up without a word and went straight to the nearest tree, a fat opossum and five rabbits hanging off the the hooked rope he'd made for them to wait before dinner. He cut the knot and brought it over to the hunter, handing it over.

Daryl didn't make a move to accept it, "What are you doin'?"

"Take it," Connor stated flatly, arm still outstretched.

"I'm not takin' your food, man," Daryl tossed the cigarette into the dirt, standing up to come nose to nose with the Irishman.

"You can't go back to camp with nothin'," Connor pointed out.

"And I'm not goin' back with y'alls dinner for the next couple days," the redneck countered, hefting his bow onto his shoulder.

"Daryl," the blonde's eyes were blazing, unyielding, "If you don't take this and go, I swear I will sneak into that camp of yours tonight and put it there."

Daryl raised his chin, "You wouldn't."

"I would," Connor smirked, "Wanna try me?"

Daryl looked to Murphy but the darker twin was busying himself with his boots, cigarette almost burning his lips it was so low. He moved at a slow autopilot, listening closely while trying to remain passive. He wished the man would speak up and defend his food but that didn't seem likely. Dixon was learning something pretty fast. When the MacManus' did something, they did it together.

And Connor wasn't backing down.

"I'm gonna pay you back," Daryl took the rope reluctantly, staring down at the prime game with an uncertain expression, "I don't like owin' anyone anything."

"Don't worry about it," Connor dared to wink at him, "We MacManus's tend to forget our debts."

"We Dixons don't."

The double meaning caught them both off guard.

"You should go" Murphy advised, eyes watching them slyly beneath dark spun lashes "Got hungry kids to feed, right? Make sure they get their share first."

Daryl nodded tightly, eyes lingering on on the blonde archer, "So...see ya."

"Yeah."

Daryl couldn't bring himself to say thank you so he left with a heavy conscious, clinging tight to the freely given game.

Connor watched him go with parted lips, as if he wanted desperately to say something. He took a step forward, hands clenching into fists at his side as he tried to think of something to say to the hunter's retreating back. But Daryl kept going and soon disappeared into the foliage, swallowed up by low hanging branches.

Connor sighed before a yelp escaped him, a boot catching him upside the head.

"Oi!" Connor barked, turning to glare at his brother (who was sitting up and glaring daggers at him), "The hell was that?!"

"You're lucky 'm not hungry," Murphy drawled, but his eyes were still razor sharp.

"Come on, Murph, he's got a hungry camp to feed," he gestured to where the hunter had walked off, "If it were our family, our friends-"

"Well they're not!" Murphy snapped, getting to his feet, "I'll let it go this time, Conn, but you gotta remember we're out here by ourselves. The name of the game is survivin', remember?"

"We've lived on less."

"But not during the end of the world," Murphy got to his feet, brushing his dirty palms across his jeans carelessly, "I'm going to take a walk. You stay here and think about what you're going to do with Mr. Daryl Dixon over there."

"I'm not-" Connor tried but his brother was hearing none of it, slicing his hand through the air as if to physically stop his words. He ran a hand through his hair and tried not to growl, frustrated with himself and that stupid hunter.

"Fine," he finally said, "Just...take your gun, yeah?"

"Hm," Murphy agreed, heading into the tent to find his weapon.

This was going to be a long apocalypse.

* * *

**Just a quick note: Yes, we will eventually learn about this 'incident' the twins went through.**

**I hope you give this story a chance, I love it so desperately.**


	3. Before the Group Part II

**Just so everyone knows, the outbreak happened right before they went off to Ireland with their father, like before they even considered leaving the job.**

* * *

_Connor took another gulp of the rich, dark beer Doc had poured for him. It was good to sit and relax, the constant chatter of the full bar a welcome relief to his aching muscles. The alcohol had made his head all fuzzy and warm. Someone laughed further away, loud enough to make him look. He leaned forward and peered down the bar, the line of polished wood leading to the man at the end._

_He wrote it of as his brother until he saw those eyes, dark as a stormy sea._

_Connor couldn't help but double take, every faceless person in the bar disappearing to leave him and the other man. Daryl. It's Daryl. With his torn shirt and layer of filth, looking every inch like he'd just walked out of the woods. Instead of a crossbow he clutched a beer, lips wrapped around the lip as he took a drag from the neck. What was he doing here?_

_Daryl met his gaze full on, sending nervous flutters all up the blonde's spine. The redneck put down his pint and got up without a sound, making his way slowly up to the Irishman. Connor dropped his gaze back to his beer, palms so sweaty he couldn't grasp the mug anymore. His heart was like a small sparrow trapped in his chest. What was happening? Why was Daryl looking at him like that?_

_The hunter came up close behind him, heat pouring off him in waves. Connor felt cold in comparison. Calloused fingers slipped just under his jaw to tilt his head back, Daryl's face filling his vision just for a moment before his eyes fell shut. What he'd been craving finally transpired, chapped lips covered his own. Connor was stunned by the touch, releasing a low sound as the man's fingers wandered over his cheek before his wide palm covered the curve of his neck. His pulse fluttered under the man's grip, he parted his lips to let him have whatever he wanted. It was slick and perfect._

_It was too good to be true so he went with it, afraid he'd never get the chance again._

_Connor knocked the barstool over as he turned, lashing out and seizing the redneck by the collar. He dragged him back into a kiss, more demanding than before. He pressed right up against him, feeling every inch of that body made hard from years of hunting and fighting. Daryl responded with a rough moan, wrapping his arms around his waist in return._

_Connor was mapping the hunter's mouth when the other got frustrated, picking him up like a woman and tossing him._

_The world shifted around him. The colors and lights of the bar faded out to be replaced with a wash of grey and blue, a cracked cement ceiling filling his vision while his back hit a mattress. He blinked rapidly, reaching up and touching the thick pillow beneath his head. Where was he? The bar..._

_Daryl was standing at the end of the bed, naked and slick with sweat like he'd just taken down a walker in the Georgia sun. Connor looked down at himself, he was just as naked. Their clothes...where..._

_They were in the old apartment, the mess of beer bottles and cigarette butts on the nearby table still there. He wondered briefly where Murphy was._

_Any thoughts of his brother flew out of his head when Daryl crawled onto the bed, covering him with all the grace of a predator. Fingers dug into his hip, the man's chest pressing into his own, teeth dug into his collarbone._

_Hot. It was so hot._

Connor moaned himself awake, clutching his pillow instead of a handsome hunter. He sat up and groped at his bedding, trying desperately to figure out just where he was.

There was a sleepy murmur beside him. He looked over to find his brother dead asleep just two feet away, blanket tugged up to just below his eyes. Connor reached out and put a hand on him, assuring himself that his brother was alive and breathing. He was warm and fine, at least from what he could tell.

Connor laid back down with a huff, groaning when he realized he was still rock hard from his dream. He looked over to his brother once more to make sure he was asleep before his hand slipped down to his pants, creeping under the elastic waistline to find the length of his cock. The moment he wrapped his fingers around himself he had to muffle his moans, his dream coming back full force. But he took it further. He imagined Daryl's fingers inside him, forcing him open and wide to take something even thicker. He'd put money on the hunter packing some heat, something to go along with that sneer and cut jaw. Fuck, he wanted the man to get him dirty...

Connor spilled over his fist, teeth dug deep into his hand to muffle his moans.

Guilt chased the euphoria. Connor wiped his hand off on the side of his pants, flipping over onto his stomach with a sigh. He shouldn't think of Daryl like that. The man was a gruff, redneck, straight-out-of-the woods man. Straight as the arrows he shot. They'd had a few moments but that was probably just the way Daryl interacted with another capable man, another hunter.

That's what he was now, a hunter. He wasn't another Irish brawler or meat packer who could take a fella home and put him in bed, he couldn't get away with that anymore. This was a new world and (as Murphy had said) the name of the game was survival. It didn't matter what he wanted. Even if it was a year ago he would never dare to approach a man like Daryl, those kinds of men never went the way he wanted them to. He needed to stop before he got his nose broken.

Or worse, his heart.

**xXx**

_The woods were bright and quiet, not another person around for miles. Daryl was walking, crossbow slung casually over his back. He hadn't seen a bit of game or walker all day, just the rustle of the breeze in the trees and the sunshine. Nothing and no one mattered. Not Shane, not Merle, no one._

_Someone laughed, someone close. Daryl whipped around in time to get an armful of warm, hugging human. He spun the man around and slammed him up against a tree, shoving his forearm up under his chin to cut off his air. The man choked a bit but he still grinned._

_"Connor?"_

_The blonde grinned, "Guilty as charged."_

_That was all that needed to be said. They surged forward at the same moment, lips crushing together in a rough kiss that sent both their heads reeling. Daryl's hands were greedy on the man's lithe body, pushing up and under clothing to get to the warm skin. It was hot to the touch and inviting, Connor moaned and arched up as if offering more. Dixons were greedy, after all._

_Daryl wrestled Connor to the ground, the other giving a good fight. They rolled around in the grass, kicking up dirt and leaves like a couple of school children. There was nothing innocent about the grind of their hips or the way they ate at each other's mouths, their clothes slipping off in quick layers. It was raw and desperate, a copper tang of blood marring the Irishman's sweet mouth after only a few minutes._

_Daryl broke away long enough to gaze down at the other, getting only a brief glimpse of tan skin before the other forced him back. He wanted more than just a fuck, he wanted to see the blonde and taste his skin. But Connor wasn't having any of it with the way he was rutting up against him._

_If it's a fuck he wanted, it's a-_

"Mmph."

_Daryl picked his head up, "What was that?"_

_Connor looked blissed out, "Nothin'. Just fuck me, yeah?"_

"I'll do more than..." Daryl trailed off, quickly realizing something was different. He rubbed at his eyes and rolled onto his back. Everything was dark and there was...a tent above him? What the fuck? Someone shifted on the other side of the tent, emitting a rough sound.

Daryl growled low in his throat when he realized he'd been sleeping. Motherfucker. It'd only been a dream, a lust-fueled frustration. Merle was snoring more loudly than usual, it must've woken him right up. Stupid fucker. He turned onto his side, putting his back to his brother. There was no way he was jerking off with any chance of his brother waking up, let alone anywhere close to him. The sick fuck would never shut up about it if he did.

Daryl reached down and palmed his swollen groin, trying to get any hint of relief. His mind filled with the sound of soft singing carrying through the trees, a hearty laugh.

He could almost smell the underbrush of the forest.

**xXx**

Daryl emerged from the woods into camp with a healthy string of rabbits and meaty little chipmunks, a squirrel or two fattening up the deal. He'd traded some of the fish Andrea and her sister had caught plus a bottle of shaving gel he'd forced Glenn to pick up from his last trip into town.

"_Conn's face is a bit too sensitive for the straight blade."_

Connor had punched his brother hard in the ribs but he'd essentially agreed, explaining that his face was "much akin to a rash" after using just water and soap. The brothers had joked and insisted upon it, but Daryl knew they were being generous. The two of them ate only enough to keep them strong and their bellies full, not one bite more. The truest of minimalists. They only thing they gorged themselves in was conversation and cigarettes, prone to laugh at private jokes he didn't understand through faint clouds of ivory.

Daryl sat down on the tree stump he'd claimed as his own, the one wedged between two smooth boulders. He laid the catch out on of the rocks and untied a rabbit, spreading the critter out before drawing out his knife. He was went to work on it, the fur barely off of it before a shadow fell over him. He hesitated for only a moment before continuing, cleaning out the nasty bits of the animal with a steady hand.

"Hey there, little brother."

Oh great, he was putting that sweet croon to his voice. That was the start of real trouble. He could feel his older brother's eyes scanning the game with a critical eye, catching the lack of arrow wounds in most of them. In most of them the necks were cleanly snapped, little cuts of red circling their feet.

"Rabbits, huh?"

"Figured we could use a change" Daryl grunted, setting aside the clean body of meat for the next rabbit "Bit more meat on 'em."

"Hm" Merle squatted down next to the boulder, grabbing a rabbit by the haunches to examine it's back foot. He ran his thumb over the little cuts there, dirty hands looking ten times as big on the critter. Daryl resisted the urge to tell him to either fuck off or help but he couldn't force the words out.

"Where'd you get these?" Merle finally asked, eyes still on the rabbit.

"Woods, where else?" Daryl snarked, getting a sharp look from his older brother. He snapped his jaw shut, hands still working to clean the rabbit he held so tightly.

"These things were snared" Merle spat, standing up so he loomed over the younger man "Now I'm gonna ask you again. Where'd you get these hares?"

Daryl didn't answer in hopes that was the smartest thing to do. He shrugged and moved to the chipmunk, cutting the thing right up the middle. He nearly nicked the stomach, his fingers threatening to shake.

"Answer me, boy."

"It ain't nothing" Daryl muttered under his breath.

"I'll say when somethin's nothin' " Merle growled, leaning down close until Daryl could feel the heat of his brother's mouth against his ear "And you know only pansy ass, unskilled fucks use snares. You better not be out there wastin' fucking time and energy tyin' up wire and shit."

"What's it matter how I got the food?" Daryl finally snapped "It's gonna feed us just as good either way!"

"You little punk ass shit!" Merle barked, grabbing the man's collar and pulled him to his feet. Daryl tried to push away and got a fist in his gut for the effort. He was faster but his brother had always been stronger, the grip on his shirt was unyielding. Another punch to his ribs was swiftly followed by a jaw-shot, his teeth cutting into the soft flesh of his mouth.

Daryl found himself flat on his back in the matter of a minute, dust and blood pooling in his mouth. Merle dropped down to kneel on his chest, broad face hovering above his own. The man looked smug and it made the younger brother seethe.

"Big brother ain't dumb" Merle hissed through his teeth "I see you go off into them woods for hours, too long for just a day's hunt. These city folks can't see it but I can. I know you're hidin' somethin' and I'm gonna figure out what. In time."

"Ain't hidin' nothin' " Daryl spat, crimson staining his lips and chin.

"Keep lyin' " Merle stood, grin tugging his lips as he looked over the mess he'd made of his brother "See where that gets you."

Daryl stayed still until his brother walked off, heading back to their tent. Once he was in the clear he sat up and dragged a rag out of his pocket, wiping the blood from his aching mouth with a wince. He prodded his jaw to find it sore but unbroken. There was no permanent damage to speak of. He spat out a dark glob of blood, ribs groaning in protest as he got to his feet.

Nearby, Glenn had a death grip on his water pail. His lithe muscles shook with the effort not to go right over there to either set Merle's tent on fire or offer comfort to Daryl. One option was irrational, the other unwanted. He had desperately wanted to step in when Merle set in on his brother but a sudden wash of terror had stopped him dead. Merle may not kill his brother but he wouldn't hesitate to kill a chink, of that Glenn was sure.

Ashamed and disgusted with himself, Glenn continued on to the river to gather water.

**xXx**

Daryl didn't want to explain the fresh bruises to the half of the camp that didn't see the whole encounter (they wanted Merle gone anyway, this wouldn't help), so he headed to to the MacManus camp instead. He didn't bother to clean himself up and that was a mistake.

The moment Murphy saw him he tensed, eyes darting all around the camp.

"Christ, clean yourself up" Murphy hissed, the redneck froze in confusion "He'll be back any minute, if he sees you he'll freak!"

"You won't believe what I got!" came from the treeline, Connor emerging a second later with three squirrels tied together at the tail "Got 'em on my way back! Wait until Daryl sees what-"

Connor cut himself off at the sight of the redneck standing with his brother. Daryl's jaw was starting to swell and there was still blood on his face, his stance off from the rib shots. The Irishman dropped his bow and game to the ground, forgetting about everything else as he ran up to the hunter.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Connor barked as he manhandled Daryl onto a log, Daryl protesting the whole time "Did you run into the dead? Did you get bit?"

"Ain't nothin', just a scratch" Daryl shucked off his crossbow, wincing while the blonde moved his face back and forth to inspect his face "Would you quit? I'm fine."

"You're a fuckin' liar, that's what you are" Connor gently coaxed him to open his mouth with only his fingers "Nah, dead wouldn't hit like this. A man did this to you."

"Don't matter none, I told you" Daryl didn't have the heart to push him away, silently enjoying the mothering act "I just got into a fight with my brother is all."

"You've got a brother?" Murphy asked, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene. Daryl snapped his mouth shut when he remembered he hadn't told the twins about Merle.

Connor saw the hunter's discomfort and decided to leave it alone, "Murph, grab the water."

Murphy made a face, his brother sensed he was about to protest.

"Just get it, will ya?"

Murphy obeyed after a pointed hesitation.

Connor turned his attention back to Daryl, looking the rest of him over, "Did he rough you up anymore than that?"

Daryl's expression gave him away.

"Lemme see."

Daryl slowly raised the hem of his shirt, looking away as he revealed the new bruises on his ribs. Connor hissed through his teeth like they were his own. Murphy soon returned with water only a few hours from boiling, putting the bottle and a rag beside his brother before retreating to his old spot. He knew better than to get in the way of Connor and his maternal instincts.

Connor wet the cloth and took to dabbing away the blood on Daryl's face, being as careful as he could. The hunter didn't wince once, settling for keeping his eyes on the ground while the Irishman kept his clucking and fussing.

"Take it easy on those ribs, yeah?" Connor insisted, ringing out the pink stained rag "Usually a tough guy like you could be back to fightin' but the world's kinda ruined, if you didn't get the memo. One wrong move and you could be down for a few days."

Daryl grunted, listening.

"Stubborn fella, you know that?" Connor turned the hunter's head with the back of his hand, getting a scowl "Listen to this at least. No one, and I mean _no_ _one_, has the right to put their hands on you."

Daryl brushed his hand away, missing the warmth of his touch instantly, "Knew I shouldn't have come around here, knew you'd freak out."

"Damn right" Connor punched him in the shoulder, getting the hunter to scowl "You show up bloody and you expect me to be calm? Dumber than you look, aren't you?"

Daryl smirked and struck him back, hitting the blonde hard enough to knock him backward off the log. Murphy readied himself for a fight but his brother laughed, kicking the redneck in the leg as a form of payback. The moment Dixon laughed the darker twin relaxed, deciding it was time for a smoke.

**xXx**

It wasn't even a month before Daryl blurted out an offer to come hunting with him.

Connor couldn't have looked more pleased, "Venison sounds like just the thing."

That's how they found themselves creeping from tree to tree, Daryl in front to check the trail.

"See that?" Daryl pointed to the patch of brush in front of them "You see how it's broken in fours, like peg holes?"

"Tracks" Connor squinted, seeing what he meant "Okay, yeah."

"It's a long way off, we've still got some walkin' to do" Daryl grunted, leading the way forward once more. Connor followed obediently, bow off his shoulders and in his fist.

"How's your jaw feelin'?" the blonde inquired.

"Fine" Daryl swiped at his nose "My brother's just a piece of work is all."

"Your brother..." Connor whistled softly, a bird in a nearby tree answered him "What's he like?"

"Merle" Daryl bit at the end of his thumb "He's my older brother. Practically raised me. Well, he...he was around more than my old man, at least. Spent a lot of time in and out of juvie. He's an ass but he's my kin."

"Know how that goes" he grinned "And your Da left?"

"I wish" Daryl spat at the ground "He was nothing but a fuckin' drunk. Couldn't keep a job for more than a few weeks, wasted all the money on liquor and women. Just a stupid fuck who liked to redefine the meanin' of _tough_ _love_."

Connor's brows furrowed up, "He didn't put a hand on ya, did he?"

Daryl kept his mouth shut but the Irishman was getting really good at reading him.

"What about your Ma?"

"Checked out after I was born, was told she couldn't handle it" Daryl shrugged, sniffing sharply as he tried to suppress those awful feelings of worthlessness that came up whenever he thought about his family "Didn't need her anyway."

"Your family sounds like a bunch of bastards" Connor admitted.

"And your kin is better?"

"My Da is God knows where right now" Connor admitted "We lost track of him. Mum's in Ireland, far as I know. It's been mostly just me and Murph our whole lives. Back in Ireland we worked hard to earn enough money to come to America _together_, the thought of separating never even crossed our minds."

"How was it?" Daryl asked.

Connor snatched an empty canteen off the ground, shaking leaves and dirt off it in hopes they could take it back to camp with them, "What?"

Daryl rolled his eyes, "Get the rainbow out of your ears. _Ireland_, man."

Connor stopped, gaze drifting off into the trees. A sense of calm seemed to wash over him, looking as if he were back there in his memories instead of this dead-infested world.

"Untouched" Connor's accent thickened, eyes glazed over "At least where we lived. Miles an' miles of green and trees. Looks like you could walk for days and not see another soul. And the air...it smells like damp, autumn rain. All the time. Can you believe that?"

Daryl wet his lips, reaching back and tugging the blonde's arm. Connor jolted back into reality with a soft gasp, brow knitted in confusion.

"Nah, mick" Daryl didn't mean to sound so harsh but it just came out that way "Sounds like you're making it up."

He still looked so pathetically lost, "Maybe it's better there. All those hills and marshes...you could probably set up a sweet bunker."

"I doubt that" Daryl softened his voice "Everywhere got hit pretty hard, man. Didn't you see the TV before they shut the air waves down."

"Well, we kinda got blindsided with it all" Connor motioned for him to continue, watching the redneck's hand fall from his arm with a pang of regret "We were out here camping just outside town when it all happened. Hell, we just thought people were panicking about the flu or something. We didn't know about the dead until-"

Connor cut himself off, lips pursing in a thin line. He muttered a curse as if scolding himself for almost admitting something.

"Until what?" Daryl asked, curious.

"We...ran into some right nasty thugs" Connor bit out "It wasn't good. We managed to get out and moved our camp about three miles up."

"You weren't worried that those guys would come back?" Daryl's fingers tightened on his crossbow "They ain't, right?"

"No" he got that faraway look "They won't be botherin' anyone ever again. Made sure of that, I did."

"Got a streak of murder in you, blondie" Daryl laughed nervously, recognizing the same flash of violence he'd seen in Merle's eyes "What'd you do before all this?'

Connor grinned it off, "We were kind of like...missionairies, I guess. What about you?"

"Hunted, skinned, sold it, drank, put it on repeat for ten years" Daryl replied, spotting the fresh tracks in the dirt between some leaves "I knew you two were Jesus freaks."

"Eh, I like to think of it as _enlightened_" Connor lilted "But yeah. You could call us...active missionaires, I guess. We were very _enthusiastic_ about spreading the word of God."

"Crazy micks" Daryl muttered, taking his crossbow off his back "Don't know how you two would survive without each other. It's clear you're the leader but you nearly killed me with yer last batch of stew."

Connor winced as he remembered that fiasco a few days ago, "Yeah. Still sorry about that."

"Leader's gotta be well-rounded, ya know?" Daryl insisted "It's not that I want Merle to be leader, or someone else, it's just the guy we got – Shane – is kinda shady. Don't really trust him. Don't trust much of anyone."

"Ya trust me" Connor husked "Wouldn't bring me out into the middle of nowhere if you didn't."

"Didn't you hear? We're all out in the middle of nowhere" Daryl was about to laugh when he spotted it "Get down."

Connor obeyed, moving with the hunter to hide behind the thicker limbs of a tree. He would've never seen it but Daryl never missed anything, the animal obliviously walking along the lower part of the (slight) hill. They were definitely at an advantage. It was a doe, plump and colored to perfection.

"You do it" Daryl muttered, surprising the Irishman "You need to learn and this is the only way how. You need to take it in the eye, put it down quick."

"Uh, yeah, no pressure" Connor muttered, pulling an arrow out of his quiver and notching it shakily against the bow "You'll just take the mickey out of me if I don't."

"Would you shut up and do it?" Daryl snapped, the blonde swallowed nervously "Shit, here."

Daryl moved behind him, pressing up behind the Irishman and laying his hands over his own. It was a moment too late when he realized how close they were, pressed tight from cheek to knee in the thin streams of Georgia sun. Not in a dream but in live-in-color reality. Connor started to tremble against him, goosebumps breaking out along his cheek and the strong line of his arm.

"You can do it" Daryl muttered, taking in the man's acrid-soap smell with a relish. He needed to dirty him up, spread some mud into his skin until he smelled like him. He wanted Connor to be just as much apart of the Earth as he was, an extension of the woods, a real hunter. He was just a young pup now, Daryl wanted to turn him into a python. A killer. A proper mate.

Connor could feel the power in Daryl's body and his jeans suddenly felt too tight, the bulge of his groin obvious in the light of day. It was just like his dream except now he had some power as well, now he could show the man what he was really made of. He could do it, he knew he could.

With Daryl, all things were possible.

"Hope" Connor muttered "Justice. Truth. Life. Same thing, yeah?"

Daryl ran his thumb over the broad ink _Veritas_ on the blonde's hand, "Yeah."

Connor took the shot and his arrow flew true.

Later when Daryl returned with a legless doe, he told everyone he'd ruined the meat there and he didn't want to waste the rest.

Shane and Merle didn't believe him but they said nothing.

**xXx**

Connor shifted his quiver a little higher over his shoulder, crunching noisily through the brush as he made his way back to camp. At least, he hoped he was. He'd gotten himself turned around a while ago and he'd decided (unwisely) to keep walking. He wasn't going to catch anything today, his mind just wasn't in it. Instead his brain was filling his head with thoughts of one Daryl Dixon. It was a steady stream of strong arms and quick eyes, ruffled brown hair, the sound of his drawl, the way he could skin a rabbit in less than a minute.

Connor considered himself a genuine appreciator of beauty and nothing was more invigorating than the sight of a capable man proving himself. Things like the smear of blood across Daryl's fingers and the way he set his crossbow shouldn't have been so stimulating. How could he _not_ admire a rough man like that?

He was positively lickable.

Connor laughed to himself, running a hand over his eyes. _That_ was Murphy talking.

The Irishman didn't know how lost he was but he soon found out. In the few moments he rubbed his eyes and blocked his vision he kept himself from seeing the drop of the hill, one of the few niches the mountains had carved into them. His foot caught on a rock and he stumbled, crying out when he ran out of land and pitched forward.

It was a rough blur of leaves and dirt, his hands clawing blinding for a root or a small tree to cling to. His bow dug into his side painfully, quiver rattling and spilling as he went. It felt endless, bouncing a bit as his body skimmed off the Earth. Twigs scraped his skin painfully, rocks biting into the meat of his forearms. He tried to curl into himself too late, hitting the bottom of the hill with a solid thumb across his back.

Connor lay dazed, groaning in soft spurts as bark dug and stung into his back. He brought his knees up beneath him and dragged his forearms up, getting himself up off the ground. His head was still spinning when he heard it, a low growling noise that rumbled across the leaves. He pictured all the different predators he'd read about before they'd come here, it could've been anything from a black bear to a coyote. Both sent fear creeping up his spine. He felt around for his bow and found it still strapped to his back, he eased it off just a bit at a time. Bruised fingers crept into his quiver and found only two arrows had stayed. The growls got closer, he took a few deep breath and notched it in his lap.

Connor counted to three, calming his heart rate and stilling his hands. He'd only get one shot at it, he imagined several different kinds of animals and where their heads would be off the ground.

Connor whipped up and pushed back on his heels, slamming his back into the trunk of the tree beside him to ground himself. He pulled back solidly, aiming true and setting his eyeline through the sights. He didn't expect to see what he did.

It was the face of a walker, dropped into a crouch in front of him with it's teeth bared.

"Jesus above!" Connor exclaimed, dropping his bow into his lap before pushing it into the leaves "You scared the hell out of me! I thought you were a fuckin' bear or somethin'!"

Daryl was the one who called them walkers, his brother and him had always called them the dead.

The walker cocked his head to the side, sniffing softly to catch his alive scent. It was a man, or what used to be. He had this soft, ruffled chestnut hair and broad shoulders that filled out a powder blue button up. Tan, dress pants, some kind of office worker who'd lost his tie. He was handsome. Well, he used to be. There was a big chunk taken out of his side, several bite marks visible beneath the ripped material of his shirt. His side was completely saturated in blood, fingers bloody and torn up from ripping into prey. He had a bloody nametag clipped to his shirt.

Once the walker caught his scent he visibly relaxed, dropping down to his knees and letting his shoulders slump. The dead man's snarl melted into an unhappy expression, ragged even.

"You're pretty fresh" Connor mused, reaching out and tilting the man's chin to the side to look at the scratches across his neck. It looked like the man had gotten attacked, bit a few times, then escaped into the woods. From the sweat staining his collar and all across his chest he assumed the poor man sweated out his fever out here alone, hidden away beneath a tree without any idea what to do or what was about to happen.

Maybe he did though. Maybe he lived through the heat and consumption knowing he was about to be turned into a walking piece of meat but praying it wouldn't happen.

"What's your name there, fella?" Connor dropped his hand to the man's name tag, swiping his thumb across the glossy surface to reveal the print "Jeremy, huh? Nice name, that."

The walker grunted and dropped it's head, nudging it against the archer's hand like a puppy. Connor smiled softly as he obeyed the silent command, rubbing his hand gently through the man's hair. He'd seen this type before, needy for redemption and begging for touch.

When Murphy and him had first encountered the dead they'd been terrified, firing their guns and running for higher ground as often as possible. That is until the day came when the walkers got too close, cornering them in a gas station with their guns and ammo still in the car they'd jacked. No weapons, no hope for distraction, it had been the most disheartening scene he'd ever been in. With more pouring through the dor, Murphy had lowered his fists and turned to embrace him.

Connor had never felt more protective and helpless in his entire life, bringing his twin into his arms and shielding him as best he could with his body. In a horrifying moment of hope, he'd prayed the dead got full on his corpse and left his brother to escape. He could still vividly remember his brother's hair between his fingers, hot tears on his neck, countless mutters of _I love you_ in several different languages pouring from his brother's trembling lips.

A walker had dared to come close enough to put it's hands on them, Murphy's words had become nothing more than a desperate gasp of _Connor_ over and over as if there were a thousand things more he wanted to say.

Then, one by one, the walkers dropped to their knees and stopped growling.

They hadn't pushed it at the time. They were too busy grabbing their shit and running.

They'd almost forgotten about the incident when a walker had stumbled into their camp just a few days later. Murphy had scrambled for his knives while Connor had gone for his bow but it wasn't needed. The walker had caught one whiff of them and stopped, standing still and looking between them with blank eyes. Murphy had been gearing to stab it between the eyes, a silent kill to keep others from hearing it. But Connor had stopped him on instinct, dropping his bow in favor of pulling his rosary out from beneath his shirt. He'd pulled the handgun out of his brother's holster and approached it cautiously.

Connor had told the walker to kneel and it had obeyed. He'd prayed for it's soul, put the gun against it's temple, and the dead man hadn't moved an inch as he shot him.

Afterward they'd run into town, found a few survivors, and the same thing kept happening.

" 'Fraid all I got is a blade" Connor apologized, pulling the Rambo knife his brother had given him "Hope that's alright."

The walker didn't nod but those opaque eyes of his filled with a calm acceptance.

"Bow your head, close your eyes" Connor commanded, carefully lowering the dead man's head "It'll only hurt for a minute."

The walker grunted, his only consent.

"Our Father, watch over your son Jeremy as he bravely offers himself into your embrace" Connor prayed solemnly "He is lost and craves your love and acceptance. Forgive him, Father, for his sins."

Connor lifted the knife, pressing the tip gently to the man's forehead, "Protect him from the wickedness and snares of the Devil."

In one smooth motion he jammed the knife down and up, going through the man's eye socket like butter. The walker made a low, keening sound but collapsed as the blade ripped through it's brain. Connor pushed the body off him and laid him out on the ground, extracting his brother's knife from the poor guy's head. He wiped the blood off on the man's work shirt. He wished desperately he could send every single one of them off like this but there just wasn't time to give them all this treatment.

A sense of contentment and sadness flooded his chest, one he was familiar with in this new world. Connor tugged his rosary out with his thumb, eyes falling shut as he started praying silently for the man's soul.

He'd find his way back but this man, Jeremy, still needed some help getting to the other side.

* * *

**This is me begging for reviews because I'm desperate for love and no one ever hugged me a enough and I CRAVE THE LOVE!**

**But really, that would be sweet for some feedback. I've already taken a review and used it as material for a later chapter. Every vote matters!**

**PS (Will also post in next chapter): I'm sorry for the confusion, just totally realized that I didn't specifically tell you this story takes place before they even find Rick. *points to chapter title* Before the brothers meet the group. Merle's around because he hasn't been chained to a roof yet. So think of this as Pre-Series until I say so, which will be two chapters, I think? As for the walker thing, that's a surprise for later. Connor's little stint up there will be explained fully, I promise**


	4. The Groups Meets the Boys

**I'm sorry for the confusion, just totally realized that I didn't specifically tell you this story takes place before they even find Rick. *points to chapter title* Before the brothers meet the group. Merle's around because he hasn't been chained to a roof yet. So think of this as Pre-Series until I say so, which will be two chapters, I think? As for the walker thing, that's a surprise for later. Connor's little stint up there will be explained fully, I promise**

**Also, Norman Reedus says he's playing Daryl like he's never had sex before. Erm...my Daryl has. Wish I had watched that before I started writing him. Still an emotional virgin, our Daryl.**

* * *

It was all Daryl's fault.

Murphy kept crouched low as he made his way along the tree line of the camp, sweat beading along his brow from the heat of the day. Go to Georgia, his brother had said, it'd be fun, he said. Whatever.

In his fist were two arrows, essential elements to the Dixon's crossbow. He'd left them at their camp the other day and Murphy had decided it wasn't worth the risk of waiting another day to return them. He could've been holding the key to the hunter's life in his hands and he wasn't about to be responsible for killing his brother's new grimy beau. Daryl was an alright man and everything but Connor seemed absolutely smitten with him, constantly itching to go off into the woods with the guy. It's not like they were fucking or anything, Murphy could understand _that_, but his brother seemed to be downplaying his feelings. Fuck, _feelings_. His brother may have been the realist out of the two of them but he was the most romantic at heart.

They felt too much, it would be their downfall.

Murphy's fucking feelings were the reason he was taking this risk. Connor had already warned him a dozen times not to go to Daryl's camp and he'd reluctantly agreed at the time, not wanting to upset his brother. But how could he possibly let Daryl go out into the woods without all his arrows? It wasn't right.

Murphy grinned at that, ducking deep into one of the bushes. This was the perfect opportunity to see some people while obeying his brother's strict rule. He'd been desperate for some more friendly human interaction ever since the whole outbreak had happened. Connor was his other half but he needed a bit more, just to reassure himself that people out in the world were still good. Those thugs they'd encountered at their old camp...those bastards had practically destroyed his faith in humanity. It was time to refill his cup, his...humanity cup, or whatever.

Murphy pushed back thin branches to get a good view of the river side. A group of women sat on some rocks, all busy washing out a pile of clothes with nothing more than soap and their knuckles. Two blonde women with pretty faces, an obvious matron with hints of bruising around her eye, a slender black woman with cheekbones high enough to cut diamonds, and one with tan skin and a round face. They were chatting amongst themselves, smiles on their faces despite the times.

Murphy loved to laugh.

They could do some good with these people.

High pitched laughter caught his ears, he looked to see a gaggle of kids chasing each other around some dirt stained boulders. At least five of them. A woman with long dark hair and a slim waist watched over them, only speaking up when they got too rowdy. Kids, there were kids! How long had it been since he'd seen a child? Sweet little things they were. One little girl was all long limbs and wavy blonde hair, her smile practically lighting up the entire area. Reaching to tag her was a short boy with dark hair and pale skin, his smile stretching his whole face in the cutest way.

Murphy would be the first to admit he didn't want to share his brother's attention with anyone but Connor's protective instincts would go over well here.

Murphy moved along, keeping to the shadows of the trees in hopes of not being seen. He wasn't a ninja by any sense, his brother was the one with the light feet, but he managed to make due. Hell, he was the whole reason they'd been caught at Papa Joe's place. He'd tripped on something, yelped and knocked into Rocco which had set the man off in a string of curses. It'd been horrible.

He pushed the dark memories away, concentrating on finding Daryl's tent. He couldn't just leave the arrows anywhere but he couldn't risk being seen. He passed a few more people on his way further into the camp, a slim man with dark scruff and a strong Mexican with a kind face were the two most memorable. The Irishman spotted a tent set off from the rest with pole outside it, a few squirrels strung up on it in wait of being skinned.

That must've been it.

Murphy's eyes strayed to the large RV in the middle of the camp, an older man standing on top of it with a pair of binoculars and and gun strapped over his shoulder. Fuck, he should've brought more than his knives. He'd kind of left on a whim, too geared up to see some new people to really think it through. Now all he could think of was getting shot in the head trying to get into the hunter's tent.

The old man on the RV turned, putting his back to the MacManus. Murphy rocked back on his heels, body coiling as he prepared himself to launch at the tent. The flat was half open, all he had to do was toss the arrows inside and get back to the bush. The whole trip would be ten feet at most, an easy sprint. He breathed in deep through his nose, fingers curling in the dirt beneath him.

Then he heard it, a soft laugh unlike the ones of the children. He looked over to see a man just a bit younger than himself with raven hair and fair skin, a lithe Asian with a baseball cap perched on his head. He was smiling up at the sky, pointing to show his companion (a plain faced man) what he saw.

"It's a robin" the dark haired boy said, his companion looked unimpressed "Come on, man, it's like the universal sign of life. It's good luck to see one this early."

The man grumbled something and walked off, the boy stuck his tongue out after him.

Murphy hesitated too long, lost in watching the young man walk away.

He hadn't seen someone that cute in a long time.

"Stop it" Murphy muttered "Yer actin' like Connor, gawking like a teenager."

Thoroughly scolded, the Irishman waited until the old man turned away again before making a go of it. He was quick on his feet, meeting the tent in no time. He tossed them inside and turned, kicking dirt up back to the forest line. He made one mistake and it cost him the whole thing: he looked over his shoulder. By the time he turned his head back there was a man there, broad chested and dark haired. He had a shotgun in his hands and he looked displeased as hell.

"Shit, shit!" Murphy flailed, nearly falling forward as he dug his heels into the ground to stop. He whipped around, intending to go and disappear through the other side of the camp, but there was another man there. This one was tall and filthy, the bulge of his arms on display without the sleeves of his shirt. He had a rifle on his back and a grin on his face, as if he'd already caught him.

Murphy's second mistake was that he froze, hesitation seemed to be a new thing he was trying out.

Thick arms curled under his own and yanked them up, effectively putting him in a full nelson. Murphy kicked and tried to pull out but the man was strong, not giving an inch.

"Well, well, well" the dirty man in front of him drawled, walking closer and sizing him up "What have we got here? A little fuckin' thief."

"I ain't no fuckin' thief!" Murphy snapped, still thrashing in the tan man's arms.

"Check him, Merle" Shane snapped "See if he's got a weapon."

The one with a thick drawl, Merle, got closer than was necessary. Murphy swallowed thickly as the man's dirt-smeared fingers grabbed him by the belt buckle.

"Pull 'im up a bit, Shane, fucker can still move."

Shane tightened his grip and pulled him up, getting the dark haired Irishman to growl. Murphy felt even more exposed now, his torso on display for the redneck with his shirt rucked up like that. Merle didn't wait another minute to start searching him, digging into his pockets and under his shirt. The trapped man started to hyperventilate as he was blatantly groped, his mind working against him to heighten his fear ten fold. Flashbacks came to him in sharp jolts.

_Broad palms forced his thighs apart, rough laughter in his ears as he made a helpless noise past the gag. The leather strap dug so hard into his skin it split it, hot blood smearing his jaw._

Merle yanked the matching knives out of the holsters on his belt, inspecting them, "Gerber Mark II's. Nice fightin' knives you stole here."

"Got 'em fair and square, I did" Murphy managed to snap.

Merle shoved one of the knives under the slighter man's chin, nicking the skin as he forced his head to the side. He leaned in, sour breath spilling over Murphy's cheek.

"Watch your mouth when your talkin' to me, ya fuckin' mick" Merle growled.

_His wrists were grabbed and yanked upward, razor sharp barbed wire digging into his skin as the man wrapped it around his flesh._

Shane could feel the younger man shaking in his arms, "Just see if he has anything that's goin' to stick me."

"Hmm" Merle ran his hand along the Irishman's pockets, fingers digging into the swell of his ass "He's got a tight ass and some knives, but not much else."

Murphy jolted like he'd been electrocuted, surging back into Shane's grip to get away from the redneck. His face was red and he couldn't breathe, one foot still in the memories. He needed Connor, where was his brother? He was somewhere in the woods, maybe miles away. But there was someone else who could help him and he was too desperate to try anything else.

"Daryl!" Murphy bellowed, landing a kick in the redneck's gut "DARYL!"

People were starting to crowd around, Glenn in front.

Merle grunted, rubbing his stomach, "You little shit."

"Daryl!" Murphy's voice broke as the filthy man came at him and grabbed him around the throat, cutting off his air supply.

"How the hell do you know my brother's name?" Merle hissed, delighted in the way the Irishman's fair skin turned flush under his fingertips "Who the fuck are you, kid?"

"Hey!" Glenn started forward, getting held back by T-Dog and Dale "Merle! Let him go!"

"You stay out of this, chink" Merle barked, eyes trained on the Irishman's paling face as he struggled for breath "You've got to the count of three to tell me just what the fuck you're doin' here."

Daryl came out of the RV where he'd been trying to fix the sink, wet from the elbows down. He saw Murphy and froze, eyes darting between his brother and Shane.

"Don't move, Murphy!" Daryl commanded, hastily grabbing a towel and wiping off his arms.

Murphy was wheezing now, "Daryl?"

"One" Merle hissed, watching the Irishman's pretty pink mouth gape and flutter.

"Merle?" Daryl jumped out of the RV "What the fuck are you doin'?"

"Two."

"I think he's passing out" Shane didn't dare loosen his hold.

"Merle!" Daryl started coming at them, an edge to his voice now "You let him go right now!"

Merle had no intention of doing any such thing.

There was no warning, no sight or sound for what was coming. No one saw the man emerge from the woods and they certainly didn't see the notch and draw of his weapon. His arrow flew fast and cut a heavy line across Merle's forearm, forcing the redneck to release the Irishman's throat.

Heads whipped around just to see Connor himself knocking in another arrow, practically vibrating with righteous fury. Shane released the darker twin to go for his gun, Murphy wasted no time running to his brother's side.

"Take the guns" Connor barked, his brother obeyed and took the guns from the blonde's waist holsters. Connor knew they had to move quickly, Dale was already training his gun on him and Shane was loading his shotgun up. They backed up in unison, Murphy's pistols dancing from man to man as he tried to get his breath back.

"Murph, run" Connor stated lowly as they approached the trees, arrowhead still trained on Merle as the redneck steadied his weapon on him.

"I'm not leavin' you" Murphy protested, voice rough from abuse.

"I'm right behind you, brother" Connor assured him, moving in front of his brother "Go!"

Murphy barely dropped his gun before he obeyed, disappearing through the trees with the quick foot of a rabbit. Merle fired into the woods, just missing the twin. Connor took the shot, the arrow whipped the man's head sideways and forced him to drop his gun. Merle growled and shouted obscenities, cupping his bloody ear. He pulled his palm away to reveal the damage (a chunk of the flesh gone) just as the Irishman was reloading.

"That's your second warning and you won't get another" Connor promised darkly "You're lucky it's not your eye."

"You fuckin' mick, I'll kill you!" Merle started forward but stopped when the blonde trained his arrow on his forehead "You wouldn't fuckin' dare."

"Put your hands on my brother? You bet your arse I would" Connor was starting to sweat, he now had three guns trained on him. A Mexican, an older man on an RV, and a tan man with thick arms that he could only assume was Shane. Goosebumps broke out all across his skin as he realized he was seconds from being shot.

Connor's eyes should've gone to the woods to see if his brother had made it away, but instead his line of sight fell to Daryl. He met the man's wide gaze, tongue heavy with a hundred things he wanted to say but couldn't (hadn't). He was going to get shot in the back the moment he turned, he just knew it, so he tried to convey everything.

_I wish things had been different._

Connor dropped his bow and made a run for it, head ducked low in an effort to make himself smaller. He heard Daryl curse and the thud of a body hitting the ground but he didn't look back, ignoring the way the forest limbs clung and scratched at him. No shots echoed.

"Murphy!" he called, heart clenching of the thought of his brother catching the bullet.

"Hurry up, you stupid fuck!"

Connor picked up the pace.

**xXx**

Daryl looked at his brother with a growing sense of trepidation. He'd shoved Merle into the dirt the moment the man had raised his gun again, crimson smeared across the side of his head like a brand of war paint. The older man jumped up and took a swing at him, he dodged and backed up a few steps to get out of the cloud of rage.

"What the fuck are you doin'?!" Merle bellowed "Those fuckers got away!"

"They didn't do nothin' to nobody!" Daryl couldn't help the anger that seeped into his voice "He wouldn't have shot you if you'd kept your hands to yourself! Ain't no reason to choke a little fella like that!"

"He was sneaking around our camp" Shane shouldered his gun again, squinting into the woods for any sign of the brothers "Who knows what he was doing."

"Who the hell was that?" Dale pointed to the woods, obviously confused "He knew your name."

"Yeah, he did, didn't he?" Shane whipped around on the redneck "He was screaming your name to high Heaven. And you came to his rescue, didn't you?"

"What were they doing here?" Lori was clutching Carl to his side "What did they want?"

"Our supplies, most likely" Andrea was touching his sister's back, the younger woman wrenched away.

"He couldn't be any younger than me" Amy protested "If he was going to hurt anyone he would've."

"Did you see that guy with the bow?" Glenn spoke up "He could've picked us off from the woods if he'd wanted to. He didn't have to come into the camp."

"You can't trust a mick, everyone knows that" Merle's hand was soaked in scarlet now "Look at this shit! He practically shot my ear off!"

Carol carefully covered Sophia's ears to protect her from the vulgarity.

"Would you all just shut up and let me think a minute!" Daryl demanded, pacing a little away from the group to get some breathing room. He scrubbed a dirty hand over his face, mind racing so fast he could feel a headache start to build up in his temples. This was bad, this was really bad. He hadn't come up with anything to tell the group, let alone his brother. He knew Merle would be against the idea of taking in two Irish to the camp.

Merle came up behind him, growling low like a dog. There was no doubt he was pissed

"That fuckin' mick shot me, little brother" Merle pointed out "I ain't got half my ear and he spilled a damn near pint of my blood. You gonna let him get away with that? Fucker practically assaulted me."

"That _mick_ was only protecting his brother!" Daryl turned to face him, chin raised defiantly "What the fuck were you doin' pinning him and taking his weapons, huh?"

Daryl surged forward and snatched the knives his brother had shoved into his front pocket, glaring fiercely when the older man tried to protest.

"_These_ are not yours" Daryl clutched them at his side, backing away again "You'd go crazy if someone took your gun. What the fuck you surprised about when he gets riled up 'cause you took his?"

Glenn dared to step closer, "How long have they been out there?"

"Dunno. Longer than we have, for sure" Daryl looked down to Murphy's knives, wondering how angry the brothers were "I had no idea they were around until I ran into Connor."

"Connor? Christ" Merle declared "What kind of limp-wristed name is that?"

"It's _his_, Merle, so shut up for a second!" Daryl countered hotly.

Merle snapped his jaw shut, unhappy with his brother's sudden backbone.

"I've..." Daryl pursed his lips, he couldn't believe he was admitting this already "I've been trading game with them for a while now. They're holed up a bit into the woods and Conn's really good at catchin' the hare you've been drooling over."

Merle scowled at the word 'Conn' but he didn't say anything.

"You've been taking game you didn't catch yourself and giving it to us..." Shane reiterated warily, shoulder tense as he reigned in his anger "All without telling me?"

"I ate their food myself, I made sure" Daryl looked from face to face, the camp was starting to become horrified at the idea of eating food from strangers "They're good men! They'd never put innocent people in danger or nothin'."

"You don't know that!" Shane claimed, thinking of all the hare he'd eaten recently.

"I know them better than I know you" Daryl admitted, swiping the back of his fist across his nose as if daring the man to start something "And I listen to your stupid ass."

Shane started for him but Merle came to his side, the Dixon brothers standing tall and proud and _together_. The leader backed off immediately, refusing to start a fight with both their hunters. Covered in blood and dirt they made an intimidating pair.

"I should've been told" Shane muttered, less harsh this time.

"How long?" Dale asked, obviously upset "How long until you were going to tell us about two fully grown men with guns living nearby?"

"Eventually" Daryl's eyes shot to his brother "Thought you'd react badly to more people."

"That one looked way too skinny, the cute one with the bow" Amy pointed out, her sister hushing her but she didn't listen "How are they even surviving."

Daryl bristled, offended at the idea that Connor couldn't take care of his brother, "Like we do."

"We should ask them to join us" Glenn offered, Merle's glare burning into his skin "Two more people isn't going to hurt anything. And you saw that guy shoot! He could help Daryl out in the woods."

The older Dixon spat on the ground, "He don't need no help."

Glenn made a face, looking as if he'd protest more but didn't say anything else.

Shane looked to Lori, she had a look on her face that told him she wanted to help the Irish pair.

"Those two guzzlin' micks are not coming into this camp" Merle pulled his gun off the ground, aiming it at the woods and peering through the sights for any sight of the the brothers "I say we should get 'em before they get us."

"Hey!" Daryl moved in front of him, knocking the gun back down "Fuckin' quit, man. They're people too."

"Yeah?" Merle sized him up, coming nose to nose with his brother "They could be infected, easy. Out there all alone?'

"They're not!" the younger pushed his brother away "They're too quick and careful for the walkers."

Merle grunted roughly, realizing too quickly that he was outnumbered (again). He turned heel and headed toward his tent. He ducked inside the structure and a few seconds later two arrows flew out, the flap zipping up behind them. Daryl knew his brother was probably taking something to keep from going ballistic on the compound. Deep down he knew Merle wouldn't leave or outright kill anyone, but he wouldn't put it past him to maim and try to take over.

Daryl looked to Shane, uncertain, "I didn't want to ask...didn't want it to be like this..."

Glenn had never seen the hunter look so tentative. The redneck's face was pinched up and he was shaking the knives he held, a nervous gesture if he'd ever seen one.

"But..." Daryl's voice was real soft, still rough around the edges "They're out there alone."

Glenn gaped in surprise. He snapped his jaw shut and went over to stand next to the hunter, fists clenched at his sides so he could keep his nerve. He kept enough distance but he hoped to present a united front against their leader.

"I want them to join too" Glenn admitted, ignoring the way Daryl's head snapped toward him.

"Me three" Amy raised her hand, as if it were a vote. Andrea pinched her side and hissed at her to shut up, telling her in hushed whispers that those men could be dangerous.

Shane scratched a hand through his thick hair, starting to pace as Daryl had done. It was clear he was thinking hard over it, running through lists of supplies and various degrees of danger. Pros vs. cons, manpower vs. resources, all of that within just a few minutes. It was a nerve wracking few minutes for the younger Dixon, fingers so tight on the knives his knuckles were white.

Shane relented, "Just...give me a few days to think about it."

Daryl sighed in relief, Glenn perked up.

"That don't mean _yes_!" Shane pointed at Glenn, the boy immediately hid his smile "I'm goin' for water."

Shane started to walk away but stopped mid-step.

"Daryl?"

The hunter froze.

"Don't go back there until I say."

The man went off to the truck, leaving the gathered camp behind.

Glenn turned to Daryl, "So who-?"

"Shut up, Chinaman" Daryl growled.

"I'm-" Glenn watched him walk away with a frown, the man heading toward the waiting squirrels "...Korean..."

**xXx**

**_Two Days Later_**

Glenn knew he shouldn't do it but his feet weren't listening anymore.

The Korean shot through the woods like a bullet, dodging trees and hopping over logs like a pro. He had a general idea where the twins would be but he if he thought about it too much he knew he was going to back out. He was kind of a chicken at heart and this was a huge risk. The men could've been dangerous, crazy, or even infected. But that wasn't stopping him.

That one, the darker one, had been terrified under Merle's vulgar ministrations. There'd been something in his eyes, something desperate, and that had struck the soul inside Glenn. And the blonde man had shot at but not actually killed Merle, how bad could he really be? They'd bandaged the redneck up but there was still a huge chunk missing out of his ear, his hand would heal fine.

If Merle had touched _him_ like that, Glenn would've done worse than clip his ear.

If worse came to worse, he was pretty sure he cold out run them. He'd even brought a baseball bat with him just in case. He didn't plan on actually talking to them, he just wanted to see them and make sure they were okay. If he could get a feel for them maybe he could make a better argument for their side. Merle hadn't stopped hollering about them since it had all happened. Daryl was great and strong and everything, but he had a bad habit of being timid around his brother once the older man whipped up a temper.

Glenn stopped on instinct, dropping to his knees the moment he heard something. The crackle of fire, the smell of something cooking hitting his nose. He lowered to his hands and knees, crawling as quietly as he could toward the source. He was higher up on one of the hills, he hadn't expected to find their camp only this far from their camp. He was barely a mile out, probably just a bit more than that. Shit, he was closer than he thought, he could hear someone humming to themselves. He eased down under some brush, belly to the ground so as not give his position away (at least not right off).

After a few moments he could see their camp, cleared of leaves and branches and set up with a fire pit. A few logs circled the clearing, a good sized tent pitched between two maples. A bloody string with a few pelts hung on a tree on one side of camp, one lone squirrel left on it. A cast iron rack (seemingly made just for this use) sat over the fire, a metal pot with a bent lid perched on top of that.

There was the darker twin, Murphy or Murph or whatever. He was sitting on a log half naked in front of the fire; a cigarette was tucked behind his ear, bruises coloring his neck and just under his arms (courtesy of Shane and Merle). Tattoos were scattered across his bare skin; some kind of Virgin Mary thing on his neck, a Latin word on his hand, a name (Noah? Was that another brother? A father?) on his chest, and a cross on his pale forearm. He looked tired, smudges of purple under his eyes to reiterate.

The man's humming became fainter as he picked up a rag and removed the lid from the pot, setting it aside carefully as steam rose up from it. He replaced it with a wooden spoon, stirring the unknown contents a few times before he let it be. Glenn couldn't help but stare as the man dipped his finger into the pot, bringing it out covered in broth. He sucked it between his lips, cheeks hollowing out around the digit for an almost obscene amount of time before releasing it with a wet pop.

Glenn felt his pants tighten and he suddenly doubted everything he'd ever thought about sex.

"Rabbit and elder berries" Murphy said out loud to himself, looking surprised "Huh, better than I thought."

Murphy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, brow furrowing up when he seemed to realize something. He stood and revealed the new wet stain along his thigh, scowling and stripping off his pants without a second thought.

Glenn's mouth went dry as the man's lean thighs were revealed. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to think of every porn he'd ever seen, desperate to remember every boob and curve. Women! He had to think of women. Soft lips, long hair, an hour glass shape – his favorite shape. What the hell was he doing getting turned on by some skin and some really suggestive gestures? He wished he had some real experience with sex to kind of drive these new thoughts out but his well was dry, he'd barely even kissed a girl and that had been awful (too wet, too quick, and she had bad skin). He tried to think of bouncing breasts and red mouths but all he could come up with was tattooed skin and the thought of an Irish brogue in his ear.

He really liked accents. That, and Irish chicks were hot.

Glenn pried open his eyes. Murphy was now perched on the log with no pants, his boxers loose around his strong thighs. The Irishman pulled the cigarette off his ear and light up with a quick flick of his lighter, tilting his head like a bird. His puffs billowed in thick, lazy clouds of white. His movements were casual but his eyes carefully watched the open pot to keep the soup from boiling over.

Glenn looked over when he heard a crunch, the blonde brother was coming in from the other end of the camp. He had his bow and quiver strung over his back and a gallon water jug in his arms.

"Got more water from the river" Connor walked over to the fire and dropped the jug next to the rocks lining the pit "Had to sneak around the whole bloody camp but I did it."

"Good, about time" Murphy griped around the cigarette, standing up to stretch his long body to it's full height "I need a wash."

Glenn gaped at the way the Irishman's stomach rippled. He needed to get out now before he did something stupid like go and talk to them. Shane was going to kick his ass if he ever found out he was this far out, let alone if he engaged with the brothers. He tried to back up but his foot caught on something, the snap it made had him cringing.

Connor tensed, head cocking to the side like a predator listening for it's prey. Glenn was suddenly reminded of Daryl in the way the man moved, the careful stance and the twitch of his hand toward his weapon...it screamed Dixon. Glenn wasn't about to stick around and find out how fast he could whip that bow off his back and set an arrow in it.

Connor turned his head toward the bushes, "Did you-?"

Murphy picked his foot up and slipped a knife out of his boot, throwing it with a casual strength that belied his body. They heard it thunk into the ground.

Glenn stared at the knife with a dropped jaw, a few feet away and safe but still frightened.

"Huh" he heard Murphy grunt "Must'a been nothin'', then."

On the other side of the trees, Connor slapped his brother on the back.

"Whatever it was, you killed it" he teased.

Murphy smirked around the butt of the cigarette, smoke pouring from his lips, "I'm good at that."

By the time the darker twin bothered to dig in the brush for his knife, Glenn was gone.

**xXx**

**_The Next Morning_**

After a long talk with Shane, Daryl left the camp with a lighter heart. Shane agreed to hold a vote among the entire camp after he'd talked with the brothers, he needed to make sure they would earn their keep and he wanted to see their skill. It would ease his mind a bit to have the twins in camp where he could watch over them properly. Not that he wanted to mother-hen them or anything, but this forest wasn't exactly walker-free and they never slept in shifts.

It was like they weren't worried about getting snuck up on.

But he knew Connor slept like a fox and the moment someone was in their camp he was awake, ready to shoot an arrow through the tent at a moment's notice. Fuck the person who crept into their camp while Murphy was awake, the darker brother would sooner put a knife in your eye socket than take the risk of you being a threat.

"Connor? Murphy?" he called softly, knowing he'd wake up one or the other. The tent didn't even stir. Daryl carefully avoided some of the strings he'd taught Connor to put low on the ground, the ones that were attached to cans or little bells. And here he'd thought the blonde had this whole 'protector' thing down and he was sleeping on the job.

"The fuck you guys doin'?" Daryl growled, going up and unzipping the flap. He pulled it away to reveal the brothers still asleep. He was about to really tear into them, wake them up with a shout or something and warn them about getting ganged up on again. But he couldn't find the real passion to do that when he saw how they curled up on each other like puppies, nose-to-neck and nestled deep under a blanket. It was kind of endearing.

Anyone else and Daryl would've felt a little put-out.

"Connor?"

"Aye?" Connor husked, still more than half asleep. His visible hand roamed up Murphy's arm, tightening along his shoulder as if to make sure his brother was still there with him. Golden lashes fluttered, catching the light, before dark eyes were revealed to the world. His shoulders tensed up when he finally understood someone else was in camp. It took him a few long moments but he soon realized it was Daryl talking from the entrance.

Connor visibly relaxed. He carded his fingers through Murphy's dark hair before tugging the blanket higher up over his brother's bare shoulders. It was a protective gesture Daryl didn't miss, though he couldn't help but notice how Connor didn't show the same modesty for his near-naked self.

"Daryl?" Connor untangled himself enough to sit up, blankets falling to his lap to reveal his bare chest. Daryl's eyes strayed and lingered there, tracing over every line of ink and scar on the tan expanse of flesh. He cut his eyes up to the man's face, scolding himself for gawking like that. He wasn't gay, he wasn't no faggot, he just thought Connor looked-

"Daryl?"

-fucking good.

"Shane wants to see you both" Daryl finally got out.

"Shane? That leader of yours?" Connor's eyes hardened "That fucker who put Murph in a headlock?"

"He thought he was stealin', you can't judge him too hard" Daryl sighed hard through his nose "He's tryin' to run the lives of more than a dozen people down there."

"I can judge him how I like" Connor looked to his sleeping brother, laying his hand along his side to feel him breathe "What does he want us for?"

"Just some questions" the hunter promised.

Connor looked into Murphy's peaceful, dozing face, "No."

"He wants you to join us" Daryl insisted "He just wants to know who you are."

"After what he did?" the Irishman scoffed thickly "Never."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "Really, man, how long do you think you can last out here by yourselves?"

Connor's glare nearly burned him. The blonde started to stand, shooing him out of with a sharp gesture of his hand. Daryl started to step out but stopped when he heard Murphy start to grumble in protest. The darker twin reached out and grabbed his brother's arm, fingertips digging into his skin while his brow pinched as if he were in pain.

"Was' goin' on?" he drawled, accent even thicker with the heavy layer of sleep still marring his mind "The shadows here?"

"Hey now, calm down" Connor whispered quickly, running his thumb across his brother's tattooed hand to try and loosen his grip "There's no shadows here, sweetheart."

Murphy clenched his eyes shut, driving out the dreams, "Conn..."

"Go back to sleep" Connor reached up and smoothed his palm across his brother's forehead to get him to hum "I'm goin' out for a minute. I'll wake you up in a bit."

"Too early" Murphy griped good-naturedly, pulling the blanket over his face. Connor stood and shooed the hunter out, pushing open the flap.

Murphy hissed behind him, "Too bright."

"Ya big baby" Connor teased, zipping it back up. The sun was still weak in the sky, it couldn't be anymore than seven or so in the morning. He didn't carry a watch anymore, didn't really see the point.

"How smart do you think I am?" the gentle tone he'd used with his brother was gone, replaced with a hard edge.

Daryl backed up, "What?"

"How _smart_ do you think I am, Dixon?" Connor snapped.

Daryl scratched at his cheek, nails scraping up dirt, "Pretty fuckin' smart, I guess."

"Then why are you talkin' to me like I'm mental?" Connor crossed his arms over his chest, bare heels dug in to the grass "Cut the crap and tell me why you really want us to join you down there."

"I told you."

Connor raised an eyebrow at him, "You proud of your big boy lies?"

"Whattya want me to say, man?" Daryl paced away, crossbow bouncing painfully against his hip. He started chewing at the side of his thumb, a nervous habit that Connor was starting to understand.

"I want the truth" Connor relented, voice soft enough to get under Daryl's skin and soothe his nerves.

"I just..." Daryl growled and pulled his crossbow strap tighter across his chest, barely turning to face the Irishman "It's just me in the woods, ya know? Merle can hunt like a pro but his gun don't help none. Glenn's useful, he makes runs into that God forsaken city every other day and comes back with plenty to go around. But there's a lot of people down there and they're all lookin' at me when I comes back and sometimes..."

Daryl chomped down on his lip, jaw set like steel, "Sometimes I don't got nothin' to show 'em."

Connor realized something, literally blindsided by the revelation.

"You're lonely, aren't you?" the blonde's words were slow, figuring it out "And scared. For us and you."

"Shut up!" Daryl barked "Shut yer fuckin' mouth, Clover, you don't know shit!"

Connor grinned at the racial slur, "You want another hunter there with you and I happen to be the only trustworthy bastard with a bow in miles."

Daryl forced himself to calm down, the other was staring him down.

"We could use Murphy too" Daryl's jaw was still tight "You tell Shane what you're good at and he'll beg to have you join."

He didn't look convinced.

"Well, not _beg_, really."

Connor glanced at the tent, "We agree to come down and take a look around. We'll lay ourselves out on a pedestal for Shane to judge. But you better have our back."

Daryl quickly agreed.

"Alright then" Connor nodded to himself "Let me wake up the princess, first."

**xXx**

It was nice of the compound to try and look inconspicuous but it was pretty obvious by the way they stood outside their personal camps and watched them walk to the RV. From the moment they'd emerged from the woods they'd had every eye on them, the three of them. Daryl led the way, flanked by the brothers. Murphy's combat knives were back in their place of honor on his hips, Connor's bow was strapped across his chest in good faith.

They kept their heads held high, refusing to wither under all the stares.

Shane was waiting outside the RV with a pistol in his hand, the safety on but the threat there. The older man, Dale, was watching them carefully from on top of the vehicle.

Daryl stood with them but moved off to the side, letting Shane get a look at them.

"Daryl said you fellas wanted to join our camp" Shane raised his chin "I'm not going to say no to people in need. But what can you do? I can't bring you in for nothin'."

"Understandable" Connor lied, imagining that he'd let anyone into their group as long as they had a flush on their cheeks and breath in their lungs "I can hunt. I can set snares and I'm fair with a bow."

"A bit more than fair, from what I've seen and heard" Shane countered "Took a chunk of Merle's ear. Did you know that?"

"He's lucky it was just the ear" Connor assured him "We can fight, quick on our feet we are. We're strong and we ain't afraid of hard work."

Shane nodded, dark eyes falling on the other twin, "And you?"

"And me?" Murphy could feel the nerves creeping up on him "What about me?"

"Well, what can you do?" Shane drawled, talking to him like a child.

"What he said" he wet his lips " 'Cept I can't hunt or catch nothin'. I'm awful with a bow."

The older man looked fed up, "What about in a fight? Hand-to-hand is nothing against a walker. If we get attacked, how do you I know that...you..."

Shane's draw dropped.

While the man was talking, Murphy and plucked both his knives from his belt and tossed them. They landed side by side nearly two inches into the side of the RV, about the length apart of two eyes. Shane turned to look, words dying on his lips, and when he turned back the Irishman was right in his face. The sleek, black knife boot he always carried on him was firmly in his fist and tucked beneath Shane's chin. The leader jerked back but Murphy followed, clamping his hand down on the back of his neck and dragging him in close.

"Enough for ya?" Murphy hissed, baring his teeth.

"Brother mine, you proved your point" Connor cooed softly, slowly lowering his twin's hand to get the knife from his throat "Why don't you go get your knives?"

Murphy sneered before backing off, heading toward the RV. He plucked his weapons out of the metal, shooting a wink a young blonde who was clapping for him.

"Did you see that?" Amy asked her sister, heart fluttering when the man shot him that wink "He was so fast, Andrea!"

The older blonde woman slapped her hands down, cutting off her applause.

"He's just a little hot-headed because of your hospitality the other day" Connor informed the leader, a tight smile on his face "Which, by the way, I'm ready to forgive."

"We thought he was stealing."

"He was returning my arrows" Daryl spoke up "He didn't want to confront you."

"He thought you'd react badly" Connor's grin turned feral "Don't know why. Want to see my skill now?"

Shane scraped the back of his hand across the bottom of his chin, nodding tightly.

Connor whipped his bow off and swung it around, notching an arrow with ease. He barely paused before letting it fly, some of the people in camp gasping sharply as it flew straight through the ring of the wind chimes above Lori's tent. They jingled jovially, the arrows set firmly in the tree.

Daryl whistled lowly, "You tellin' me you can't shoot a squirrel in the head but you can make that shot?"

"Those things weren't moving" Connor turned his bow with a flourish "Good enough for you, Shane?"

Shane tried not to gape, "Who are you two?"

"Connor."

"Murphy" he slung an arm over his blonde twin's shoulders, touching their heads "We're twins, can't you tell?"

Shane wasn't sure what to do in the face of those matching white grins.

"Go get your stuff" the leader finally said "I'll find a place for your tent. I expect you two to pull your weight around here. I'll have chores for you by tomorrow."

Across the camp stood Merle Dixon, an unpleasant frown on his face. He fingered the length of his gun as he vividly remembered the feeling of that Irishman's neck under his grip. He couldn't believe Shane was letting them in without much more of a fight. He'd been bad-mouthing the pot-lickers for days and that fucker was just going to go on and let them join the camp.

The dark one, that bitch Murphy, was tucking those knives of his back into his pants. His shirt rode up to reveal milky, scarred flesh. Just like how Daryl used to be before he went out in the sun a lot. Fucking Daryl. He saw how his little brother looked to Connor and he wasn't about to let that admiration grow.

It looked like it was up to Merle to make sure those micks remembered their place.

* * *

**I lied about not giving this fic a tumblr account. It's over on Tumblr, just type in "thewalkingsaints" with the usual tumblr plus the dotcom at the end to see all the cool gifsets, hints, pairings, pictures, quotes, updates, all that.**

**There's going to be one more chapter before we meet Rick. I'm at 17 pages and I realized I still have like 8 more scenes so I decided to cut it in half. I have an obsession.**

**Review, my loves, for I am nothing if not at your mercy**


	5. With the Group

**I need more smut. Unfortunately, since this story decided to grow a plot, all the smut will be the platonic day-dreaming kind. Which is awesome anyways.**

**Lots of group!feels in this one, plus it's a super-long chapter.**

**xXxXxXx = means a longer length of time has passed**

**xXx = basically right after**

* * *

_Three Months Ago_

Murphy leaned back against the smooth metal of their stolen car, mouth working around thick rings of smoke that floated up into the air. They had just entered Georgia an hour ago and the air was already too dry for him. He'd get used to it, he was sure, but he was already missing the smog of Boston. The air back in Ireland had been like water going down, Boston's was like smoke, this was like choking.

"Murph!"

Murphy stubbed the cigarette out against the side of the car. His brother was in the hunting shop scouting out the place, he must've found something extra-awesome to break his non-car-smoking-time. He headed into the building with barely a look around, anything safe for Connor was safe for him.

"Conn?" Murphy moved through aisles of ammo and locked up pistols, orange jackets nearly blinding him. He could feel his brother was close and he was proven right when someone slipped up close behind him, a warm hand settling on his side.

"Got somethin' for ya," Connor slipped a sleek, sheathed knife into his brother's hand. "It goes in your boot. Neat, huh?"

"More than," Murphy fingered it greedily. "Did you get enough ammo?"

"Bought out their stock, got enough to last us a while," Connor assured him, patting his hip. "Coupled with what we already got, we'll last. Let's go."

They left the shop, the salesman's curious look following them.

Murphy hopped up onto the hood, heels tapping the car's wheel. He strapped the sheath into the inside of his boot, shoving the blade inside.

"I can't even feel it," Murphy declared, rotating his ankle a bit to see if it would stab into his skin.

"There's something else, my dear brother," Connor looked pleased with himself, stepping closer to ease himself between his brother's thighs. Murphy's heartbeat picked up a bit. The blonde pulled something out of his jacket pocket, brandishing two impressive knives in front of his brother's face.

"Since you nearly snapped my bow in half, maybe you'll give these a try," Connor let his brother pluck the sharp blades from his hand.

Murphy's smile faltered, "I can't throw a knife."

His brother shrugged, "There's a lot of trees out there to practice on."

Murphy tried to give them back, "I dunno, man."

"Take them," Connor gently pushed them back into his brother's lap, "they might save your life."

Later that night at the motel, Murphy handed his large Rambo knife to his brother.

"Who knows?" Murphy teased. "It could save _your_ life."

**xXxXxXx**

_Present_

Connor spread the sleeping bags across the bottom of their shared tent. He sent a little prayer of thanks up to Heaven for the great idea to buy the extravagantly thick bedding. Shane had settled them close to Lori's camp, the tall mother and the same woman who owned the wind chimes he'd shot. He'd kind of met everyone earlier but most didn't seem too pleased for the brothers to be there.

Once he was satisfied he started checking for bugs and spiders. Murphy loved to bitch about spider bites.

"We're in the middle of the freakin' woods, what does he expect?" Connor grumbled to himself, sifting through the layers.

"You can really shoot."

Connor yelped and surged forward, almost taking out the tent. He whipped around while he fumbled for a weapon but found nothing. It was just a child standing in the open tent flap, a small boy with dark hair. A splatter of freckles decorated his round face, making him look even younger.

"Um," Connor got back his bearings, "thanks. I've worked pretty hard on that. Who are you?"

"Carl," the boy nodded to the camp beside them. "My mom and I stay there."

"So you're Lori's son?" he held out his hand. "Hi there. I'm Connor."

Carl hesitated a few long moments before he took his hand, shaking it firmly, "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Carl," Connor flashed him a grin. "You've got a strong grip there, lad."

"My dad told me a good handshake is important," Carl recited like a prayer. "He said men are judgmental."

"That we are," Connor laughed, sitting down properly. "Which one's your Da? Have a I met him?"

The boy's nose crinkled up, "My dad's...dead."

Connor's smile fell, "I'm sorry, lad."

"The geeks got him," Carl cleared his throat, as if he were trying not to cry. "Shane's been taking care of me and my mom."

Connor was sad to hear it but that explained a lot, like why Shane was so driven to make this camp work so completely.

"Where's your dad at?"

That struck Connor in the heart. He'd told his brother that their Da was somewhere in Boston, holed up, but he didn't believe it in his heart. He hadn't gathered enough nerve to tell him as such, not yet. He moved closer and took the boy's hand, biting the side of his tongue as he thought of how to word it.

"My Da is with yours," Connor smiled when the boy squeezed him back. "They're watching over us real close right now all the way from Heaven."

"Like angels?" Carl inquired slowly, tasting the word on his tongue.

"Not quite," he patted his hand. "The angels are here on Earth, lad. If you can find them."

**xXx**

Murphy huffed when T-Dog shoved an empty jug into his hands, "Get some water, man, we're gettin' low."

"How exciting," Murphy snarked, getting a dirty look. " 'M doing it, calm down."

Murphy started on the walk down the length of the camp, passing through some trees and past some rocks. It wasn't a long walk but he was easily bored. He put the jug on top of his head, balancing it with quick feet to get it to sit properly. He grinned to himself and held out his arms, the jug swaying a little but staying.

Murphy managed the pebbled path to the river with ease, twisting and moving with the jug. It was a fun little game for the boring chore. At least he was given a task, they'd only been there a day but Shane was already making it clear that he was ignoring him.

A boring apocalypse this would be.

Murphy dropped to kneel by the river's edge, taking the jug off his head to dip it in the cool flow. He hummed a bit to himself as it filled up, the _glug-glug_ almost covering up the crunch of someone walking across the smooth gravel.

Murphy raised his head, smiling wildly when he spotted the small girl with the blonde locks.

"Well, hello there," he exclaimed. "What are you doin' all the way out here?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, a doll wrapped in her thin arms.

"You can come over, I won't bite," Murphy promised. The girl obeyed although reluctantly, walking over to sit down on a large stone next to the water side.

"What's your name, darlin'?" he asked.

"Sophia."

"What a pretty name for a pretty little lass like yourself," Murphy shifted the jug. "I'm Murphy."

"Is it true?" she piped up.

"Is what true?" he countered easily, getting her to blush.

"Have you been out there all this time by yourself?" Sophia replied.

"Oh, yeah."

"Weren't you scared?"

"Nah," Murphy waved it off, "it was my brother and I, both."

"Your brother shoots like one of those Native Americans in the old movies," she grinned, like she'd said something clever.

"He's been practicing a lot," he assured her.

"He seems really strong," Sophia fiddled with her doll's braided hair. "My mom said he must have a pretty big heart to come into a camp of strangers and save his brother like he did."

"He likes to act like the big brother," Murphy laughed to himself. "He's good at that too, treats it like his job. He protects me, you know, and I just...love him, I guess."

"Is that your job?" Sophia sounded so innocent, so sure of herself. "To love him?"

"And keep him in line when his brain and that big heart of his run away with him," Murphy nodded, picking the jug up when it was full. "He's pretty awesome, you know. We're all going to be really lucky to have him."

"He can do more?" Sophia asked without thinking, watching the man stand up. Murphy leaned down and rubbed a hand through her hair, getting her to smile in that bright way he'd first seen her do.

"Lass, let me tell you something," he started, "Connor's real special."

She didn't understand, "But why?"

"Because he can chase the shadows away."

**xXxXxXx**

A few days later, Murphy found himself bored out of his mind again. Shane kept telling him to buzz off and find something to do on his own, that he didn't have time to babysit him. That's how he ended up wandering back toward the river where he'd met Sophia. Connor was getting a lesson on skinning from Daryl (with Merle watching nearby, of course) so he decided to find his own fun. There had to be something for him to do. Everyone else was busy so why shouldn't he be?

He was starting to feel unsure of his place in this group. Daryl and Connor could hunt, Shane was the leader, Dale kept watch, so what was he supposed to do? He could cook and he could make food stretch but that wasn't something he could do all the time. He was used to work. He wasn't about to sit on his ass and smoke the time away.

Murphy spotted the women before they saw him, a group of them gathered along the edge of the river. There were a few piles of clothes along the rocks, each girl taking up an article to scrub it clean with her hands or one of the few brushes. They seemed a bit down, quiet in a chore that didn't have to be awful. He approached them without thinking it through and offered to take some clothes.

They all froze and stared at him like he'd grown another head, wrist deep in soap and cautious.

"Excuse me?" Lori didn't look amused.

"I've got strong hands and time," Murphy shrugged. "You ladies look like you could use some help."

"Murphy, right?" Andrea asked, the Irishman nodded, "Well, _Murphy_, you're the first man in this camp to offer to help do women's work."

"Women's work?" Murphy echoed. "Who the hell do you think my Ma made do the linen every week? Women's work, my arse."

Amy scooted over on her wide flat of rock, "You can sit here."

"Obliged," Murphy plopped down, taking a lighter from his pocket and the ever-present cigarette from behind his ear. "You mind?"

Amy shook her head, he lit up. Andrea tossed a bundle of wet jeans at the Irishman with a smirk, he fumbled to catch them all in his lap.

"Here, try to get the mud out of these."

Murphy set to work proving himself.

Not even an hour later, with the addition of a shirtless Connor who had nothing better to do than help his brother with the clothes, the twins had the women in stitches.

"And so I reach back like this, yeah?" Murphy demonstrated grandly. "I yank two wine bottles out their shelves, and then I smash them over the guy's head!"

"That's awful!" Jacqui declared, laughing all the while.

"Later we tied the bastard down and I poured liquor all over his fat arse," Connor did a trick with his shirt, demonstrating how he'd swirled the bottle, "and you know what I did?"

"What?" Lori insisted.

"I tossed a match on it," the blonde declared proudly.

"They lived," Murphy half lied, seeing the shocked looks some of them had.

"I've never been in a bar fight like _that_ before," Andrea wrung out a pair of socks, still laughing under her breath.

"They were right bastards," Murphy assured them, flinging water on his brother to get him to yelp. "They sure as hell didn't deserve our respect."

"_Mafiaso_, man," Connor plucked the cigarette from his brother's lips, taking a drag off it despite the protest, "scum of the old Earth."

"You boys sure lived a colorful life," Carol fanned herself with her hand, she hadn't laughed like that in a long time.

"Ma'am," Murphy leaned in, flashing her a charming grin, "you don't know the half of it."

"It's Carol," she replied softly, cheeks a bit red.

Murphy held out his hand, "Lovely name, that. Carol."

She shook his hand and let out a surprised sound when he leaned down and kissed the top of it.

"Pleased to meet you," Murphy pulled back slowly, glad to see her smile, "I met your daughter already. Sweet girl you have there."

"T-Thank you."

Carol looked smitten.

Connor grabbed his brother by the ear, yanking him away, "You behave yourself."

"That smarts, you know," the darker twin rubbed his sore ear.

"Flirty brat, isn't he?" Connor ruffled his brother's hair.

Murphy snapped his teeth at him but didn't protest.

"Okay, that's it," Amy declared, double checking the bucket, "no more."

Connor made a face at the second basket, the one filled with wet clean clothes, "How do you dry them?"

"We have some lengths, we share," Jacqui replied, obviously displeased with this.

The twins grinned.

"Name one thing you're going to need my stupid fuckin' rope for," Connor joked, punching his brother in the shoulder and getting one in return. "Ladies, I think we have what you need."

The boys ended up hoisting the black rope up and fastening it between two trees, creating a clothesline and getting the clothes up in half the time it usually took, working in perfect sync with each other like a well turned clock.

The ladies stood nearby and watched, pleased smiles on their faces.

"They're not bad," Lori offered.

"Not bad?" Jacqui tisked. "Honey, I wish all men came in pairs like this."

**xXxXxXx**

_Connor could see a hospital. Worn, bloody, vines creeping through it._

_He needs you. He needs you._

_Who needs me?_

_Vivid blue eyes, pale skin, so much pain._

_He's looking. Looking for you._

_Why?_

_He is who will lead you in this new world._

_A leader?_

_He needs you as much as you need him. You just don't know it._

"Connor?"

_He needs you, he needs you all._

"Conn?"

Connor jolted out of his daze, eyes snapping open to see Daryl and his brother staring back at him. They'd created a fire off from the rest, not quite comfortable enough to sit with everyone, and Daryl had wandered over after his watch. He must've fallen asleep. The night was cold, his knees were up to his chest and his arms were wrapped tight around them. He had a drool spot on his jeans, he must've been out for a while.

Connor scrubbed his gloved hand across his mouth and cheek, blinking away the remnants of the dream. It had almost been like someone was talking to him, some strong voice...like when they'd received divine providence to kill the scum of the Earth. His chest was still strong and full of need to find that man with the bright blue eyes, the one who needed him.

"You better get him to bed, man, he's fallin' over," Daryl jabbed at the fire with a large stick, sparks danced up. "It's gettin' late."

" 'M fine," Connor tried to get up but his feet were asleep, he fell back down onto the log, "I can take a shift, just give me a minute."

"No fuckin' way, man," Murphy got up and went to his brother's side, curling an arm around his waist to lift him up. "I'm taking you back to the tent before you pass out."

"Yeah, yeah," Connor complained, hating the useless feeling that was creeping into his gut. He'd taken the earliest watch and he hadn't gone back to sleep since but he still wanted to do something. Daryl was looking at him and he pushed his brother back a bit, standing on his own.

"Fine, big man," Murphy mocked, jabbing him in the side. "Let's go."

Connor nodded to the hunter, "Night."

They weren't a few feet away before Daryl spoke up, "Hold up."

The brothers turned in unison.

"I need to talk to Murphy for a minute."

Connor hesitated, his twin gave him a nod, "Be right there."

Daryl waited until Connor was safely out of ear shot before he spoke up, "I didn't get to...you know, for bringin' my arrows back."

Murphy's face broke into a grin, "You wanted to thank me?"

Daryl nodded tightly, "You didn't have to."

"Well, you're not completely useless," Murphy shrugged, turning to walk away. Daryl was about to make a smartass remark when the darker twin looked over his shoulder, those eyes so like and unlike Connor's own burning right through him.

"That and my brother likes ya. I'll not leave ya hangin'."

Murphy left the redneck speechless.

Murphy ducked into the tent to find his brother already stripped to his boxers and yawning.

"These are good people, Murph," Connor muttered sleepily as his twin zipped up the tent, "maybe we should stay."

Murphy recalled the conversation they'd had about staying. For right now it was a good idea, more people couldn't hurt. But how long would the camp stay? What were their long-term plans? They'd agreed to wait out this dead-on-Earth-thing in relative peace but as each day went by they realized more and more that _that_ particular plan wasn't going to be an option. Between greedy, malicious people and starving walkers their lives were about to get a lot more complicated. For two months they'd stayed in limbo and they hadn't quite decided yet if it was time for them to start doing something.

"None of this while you're tired," Murphy scolded, plopping down into their bed to yank off his own t-shirt. "You said we'd wait a few weeks before we made a real decision."

'There are kids and women," Connor curled under the blankets, eyes already sealed shut. "Can't just leave 'em to Shane's mercy and that fucking asshole Dixon."

"Yeah," Murphy pushed his twin a bit to get some room for himself, "the one you're _not_ in love with."

A sharp pinch to his ribs made him hiss, "Hey! It's not like it's not true or anything!"

"Keep your voice down," Connor's eyes popped open long enough to glare. " 'M not in love with him."

"Whatever you say, brother mine," Murphy teased, pulling the covers over the blonde's face. "Go 'ta sleep before I make you."

Connor was more than halfway there.

**xXxXxXx**

_One Week Later_

Shane watched over the riverside like a hawk, gun strapped over his back and extra ammo in his pocket. A group of the women were washing out a lot of the bedding and a bit of the camp's laundry. That's who he was there for, to give them some protection, but there was something else distracting him. Those new members, the Irish brothers, were bathing on the far end of the bank. Out of ear shot of the women but close enough for him to get a good look.

It was disgusting. He was raised in a good house with good morals, a strict sense of traditional values laid into him since birth. To think of another man in a sexual way was wrong. Done. End of deal. He had Lori to satisfy him now and he didn't need to muck it up with some curiosity. He'd had these urges before back in college but only Rick knew about them, the only person he'd ever told. But that's all they were: _thoughts._

Unfortunately his body wasn't obeying and neither was his mind at night. He'd been having some awful dreams about Irish-tinged moans and lean hips. It was even starting to seep into his time with Lori. She should've been enough for him, the illusion of a real family should've overwhelmed him, but he couldn't help the edgy feeling taking over him. Like there was something on the horizon, something he wasn't seeing. It was all that pale one's fault, the darker twin with the sharp eyes. Not the one who was glued to Daryl's side and shot the bow, that one was just another warrior to him. But Murphy...that one inspired an ugly lust deep within his gut.

Even now his eyes were tracking the way water sliced off the younger man's skin.

Shane noticed too late that Merle had crept up behind him, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

"Never took you for a faggot," Merle's low chuckle made him grind his teeth.

"How about you shut you fuckin' mouth, Merle," Shane growled low in his throat. "I'm just watchin' over everyone. No need to make it sick."

Merle smirked, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Shane bristled as the man passed close behind him, just enough for him to feel the the heat of the other man. Merle leaned in, voice no higher than a rasp.

"Nothin' wrong with admiring a fine ass."

Shane listened to the man walk away, frowning deeply. A sense of harsh shame washed over him, closing up his throat and making his jaw tick.

But he never stopped looking.

**xXx**

"So," Lori spoke up suddenly, startling the rest of the girls out of their staring-fest, "what's the general consensus on the cutest?"

"Please, Lori," Carol busied herself with scrubbing out the sheet she held. "Objectifying them like that is totally beneath us, don't you think?"

Lori gave her a long look, "You're not fooling us."

Carol colored but she didn't exactly protest.

"I'm a little in love with that Connor," Andrea admitted, her wash long abandoned to watch the Irish brothers bathe (secretly hoping they'd stride out without bothering to cover themselves). "He's sweet and strong, have you seen him with that bow?"

"I'm picking Murphy," Amy was leaning on her palms, blatantly watching along with her sister. "Connor's great and everything, but I have a feeling if I got him into bed he'd just lecture me about safe sex and proper techniques. He's kind of...mothery."

"I'll take mothery any day if it comes with that chest" Andrea countered.

They sighed in unison.

"Connor is the most attractive, easy," Jacqui ignored some of the protests she got, flicking out her sheet, "but Murphy's more charming."

Carol's eyes fell back to the boys, "Almost like he's overcompensating for something..."

The boys started swimming back to the shore line, the one at the far end that led to the trees. The girls got a good glimpse of bare ass before they started drying off, tugging on underwear once they'd finished. Andrea and Amy's heads tilted in sync as they tried to get a glimpse of more. Then Daryl came traipsing through the trees, blood up to his wrists from butchering some rabbits. They couldn't hear what was going on but Connor was clearly the one he was engaging, walking right up to him despite his state of undress.

It was Carol who picked up the body language first, "Huh."

Amy was the first to voice it, "Is it just me or does it look like...?"

"Are they flirting?" Lori blurted out.

They all dropped their sheets and started watching the only thing they could from this distance, their body language. It was in the way Connor leaned in a bit when Daryl spoke, the unconscious tilt of his head as if baring his neck, the way he kept crossing and uncrossing his arms if he wasn't sure he liked the idea of the hunter seeing him so bare or not. Jaws started dropping when Connor got real close to Daryl, reaching up and running his thumb down the hunter from cheek to neck.

**xXx**

_Across the River_

"Okay, okay," Daryl could barely swallow down his laugh, thick grime sticking to the Irishman's once-clean thumb, "maybe you're right."

"Maybe?" Connor waved his thumb in front of his face. "You need a bath. Look at ya! _This_ just came off ya!"

The chuckles came back, Daryl tried to smother them behind his hand but he was failing miserably.

"Yer fuckin' filthy, man!"

Only Murphy saw the girls staring from across the way.

**xXxXxXx**

Shane parked the truck a little harder than necessary, wheels digging deep grooves into the damp Earth. The brief rain earlier had filled three of their waiting jugs. He kicked open the door and trudged out, scowling as he lowered the truck siding to get to the containers. He grabbed at the lip of one and hauled it up, fingers slipping on the slick surface halfway over the edge. He fumbled along the jug and nearly dropped it, two strong hands shooting out to seize the bottom to stop it from smacking him in the shoulder.

Shane looked over his shoulder to find none other than Murphy behind him, "I got it."

Shane nodded tightly, letting the dark Irishman take the gallon jug out of his hands, "Thanks."

Murphy hefted it over his own shoulder and took it over to the fire pit, the ashes dead of flames but a pot set above it and ready for boiling. Shane watched him silently, admiring the way the Irishman took on the job of unloading the water by himself. No one else was around, it seemed. He asked as such in a hushed tone.

"Everyone's busy sleepin', eatin', or washin' something," Murphy grunted, taking up the second jug. "I just got off watch so I got nothin' to do, I'll boil the water up."

"You don't have to," the leader hesitated. "I'll help."

Murphy actually turned around to look at him, frowning, "Alright."

Shane knelt down in front of the pit and started gathering up the timber, eyes tracking the Irishman's movement from beneath his cap. The man was strong, that was for sure. He'd started to really prove himself around camp, making himself useful no matter what the task. Unlike Connor, who naturally carved his space into the compound and took his place, Murphy seemed to be struggling to prove himself. He didn't have any obvious contribution like his brother's bow but he was quickly becoming an asset.

Shane was lighting up the timber with his flint when he'd finally gathered the courage to speak again, "When you first came around...I thought you were a raider, you know. I thought you were dangerous."

Murphy hummed as he poured the gallon into the biggest pot they had, cool water splashing across his forearms.

"I shouldn't have..." Shane winced when the flames came alive, sparks burning his knuckles before he had the chance to get away, "I shouldn't have let Merle put his hands on you like that. He was just bein' an ass."

The water's stream stuttered as the other tried to reign in his surprise, "Are you apologizin' or somethin'?"

"Or something, I guess," Shane shrugged, building up the fire to eat at the wood. "This my camp, do you understand? These people rely on me and I can't let strangers who walk out of the woods with knives wander around the camp."

Murphy chewed on the inside of his mouth, "I guess...I would've done the same thing."

Shane's sigh shook his chest, "Haven't exactly made you feel welcome or nothin'. You're real good with the kids and you can sure cook. The women-"

His teeth briefly raked over his lower lip.

"-seem to love you."

"You have a good group of people here," Murphy set the pot above the fire once more, "and just so you know, I didn't expect anything from you. Dixon kind of out-shined you in the 'total ass' department."

Shane's lips quirked into something like a smirk, "He's a real fuckhead, isn't he?"

"Oh yeah."

They shared a low laugh, heads ducked in the weight of the embarrassment of the situation. Shane didn't want to outright say he was sorry and Murphy didn't want to forgive him. In their silence they came to a silent agreement to let it go, to bury it.

"You're good with a knife," Shane offered awkwardly.

"Thanks," Murphy's brow furrowed as he thought of a compliment, "you're...really good at stayin' alive."

The older man raked his fingers through his hair, full-on grinning now, "I try."

**xXxXxXx**

Glenn shifted nervously from one foot to the other, watching from beneath the rim of his ball cap as Murphy hauled some heavy sheets over the length of the clothesline. He puffed away at his cigarette, the pale swell of his muscles bulging as he hefted the wet material over the line. He hadn't exactly talked to him since the brothers had joined the camp. Truth be told, he was avoiding them. Well, not Connor exactly. That one was perfectly fine, he didn't make him nervous at all. Connor was nice and made sure he got plenty to eat, he was a great guy.

But Murphy was another story. When Glenn thought of him all he could see was the way he'd lapped at his fingers, the stretch of pale chest and smooth stomach.

And _fuck_ he was back to that.

"Murphy?" Glenn forced himself to call, feet taking him toward Lori's camp (the woman was off with Shane somewhere and the Irishman had offered to pick up her chores). Murphy looked up from the line and smiled around the bud, arms stretched high above his head.

"Hi?" he sounded unsure. "Don't think we've met yet."

"Uh, no," Glenn tried to smile it off but he just looked like he was forcing it. "We kind of met before, you know, when Merle grabbed you and stuff. I wanted...nevermind."

"Nah, I remember," Murphy took out his cigarette, turning to give the Korean his full attention. "Can't forget a cute face like yours. You stood up for us. We appreciate that."

Glenn watched with a laser-point focus as the Irishman's cheeks hollowed around his cigarette, "_I_ appreciate that."

"I-I...Glenn."

Murphy raised an eyebrow.

"Glenn," he tried again, "Glenn...is my name."

"Glenn," his name sounded like some kind of smooth chocolate on the other man's lips, "I'm Murphy."

"I know," now he sounded like a lovesick teenager.

Murphy smirked knowingly.

Glenn blinked hard, forcing his mind to get back on track, "I just wanted to know if you needed anything from my next run."

Murphy's brow furrowed up, surprise creeping over his face and into his voice, "That's nice and all, but if Conn and I need something we'll go get it. No worries. Thanks, though."

"I'm not being nice," Glenn winced when he realized how off-handed he sounded. "I-I'm not _just_ being nice. I do the runs for the group."

Murphy plucked the cigarette from his mouth, "All by yourself?"

"Yeah. It's just easier that way," Glenn tried to imitate Daryl, brushing his fist past his nose in that tough guy way. Then he felt stupid and dropped his hands to his sides, his nose smarting from the too-hard touch. How did Daryl make it look so cool?

"I can't let you do that anymore, it's too dangerous," Murphy lifted his foot, stubbing his cigarette out on the heel of his boot. "I'll go with you."

"You don't have to do that," Glenn assured him quickly, "I'm used to going on my own. I'm faster that way."

"I'm fast too," Murphy countered, "I'm good with a knife, I'm a crack shot, I'm good to have. I won't bog you down."

Glenn chewed his lower lip, contemplating the idea. It'd be good to have some real back-up, to have some real bullets and real speed to follow him. And it'd give him a reason to try and talk to Murphy, to get to know the know member of their group. Maybe if they were out there alone he'd get the courage to say some of the things he'd wanted to for the past few days. He wanted to know where they were really from, how they'd found out about the walkers, if he'd lost anyone, all of that (now) boring stuff everyone had already gone through.

Somehow, when he knew it was Murphy, those details didn't seem so tedious.

"Are you leaving now?"

Glenn was pulled out of his thoughts, Murphy sounded like'd he'd asked the question more than once.

"Yeah, right now, actually."

"Let me get my stuff," Murphy bounded over to his tent like an excited puppy, disappearing inside. Glenn released a breath he didn't know he was holding, tilting his head back to the sky. What the hell had he gotten into? He was complete shit at this, he didn't know how to talk to people. Especially not people he found attractive.

"And we're back to _that,_" Glenn grumbled to himself, pushing his cap back. "Stupid, stupid...he's going to think you're a total moron."

"Well hello there, Glenn."

The too-happy brogue caught him off guard. He jerked and turned around. Connor was there standing tall and proud, chin raised up as if in challenge. He looked friendly enough but he had that same sleek, predator grace that Daryl was so good at pulling off.

"You headin' out on a run?"

Glenn nodded, smile tight.

"And...what?" Connor started closer, tan fists hanging at his sides. "You're taking my brother with ya?"

"He volunteered," Glenn looked back at the tent, hoping for some back up. "Right, Murphy? Murphy?"

"How long do these trips last?" Connor needled, voice edging to a fierce tone that made the Korean shudder. "How long does it take you to bash a dead man's skull in?"

"I-I dunno," Glenn stuttered, backing up as the Irishman advanced. "I didn't want him to go. I was cool going by myself, but _he_ said-"

"How dense are the walkers in Atlanta?" he snapped, smirking when the boy's back smacked into a tree. "We haven't been there in a while, have they thinned out?"

"Well-"

Connor got close, the boy was starting to twitch, "Just how fast are you?"

"Fast," Glenn managed to get out. "Dude, do you know how intimidating you are?"

"What are you, twenty?" Connor sized him up. "Do you even know how to fire a gun?"

"No, really, you're freaking me out," the boy admitted.

"How can I expect you to protect my brother when you can't even stand up to me?" Connor pinned him along the stomach with the flat of his hand. "And I'm not even trying to eat your eyes."

Pale arms covered in long black sleeves curled around Connor, pulling the blonde away from Glenn and back to a respectable distance.

"Chill out, Conn," Murphy's chin dug into his brother's shoulder from behind, "you're scarin' the poor boy and all he's trying to do is get us some supplies."

Connor grunted, relenting a bit, "I don't want you runnin' off to Atlanta with a stranger."

"Me and Glenn are real close," Murphy shot the boy a wink. "Aren't we?"

"Yeah," Glenn swallowed thickly, "best friends."

"See?" Murphy moved out from behind him, dressed in those old Saint clothes they used to wear all the time before they got somewhere warmer. "We'll take care of each other out there."

"I can best protect you," Connor lowered his voice, staring into his brother's eyes to help him understand. "I don't want to lose you because you want to stretch your legs a bit. Why can't you stay here? Or go with Daryl?"

"Connor," Murphy stepped up and started tightening up the strap of his brother's quiver, pulling it a bit tighter. "How are we supposed to get to trust these people if we never try 'em out first?"

"Besides," Connor grunted when his brother patted his chest "Daryl likes him, how bad can he be?"

"Wait, what?" Glenn pushed off the tree. "Daryl likes me?"

The brother's grinned in unison.

"Okay, you can go," Connor pulled open his brother's coat, inspecting the weapons. "Guns?"

"Both."

"Knives?"

"Both."

"Ammo?"

Murphy sighed in exasperation, "Plenty. I'm not five, I know how much ammo to take on a supply run."

"Good," Connor nodded in approval. "Don't waste bullets and make sure you look for smokes. And if you see a hunting store hit it and look for more bolts. Daryl's runnin' low."

Murphy nodded, "I'll look."

"You better," the blonde punched his brother in the shoulder. "Watch each other's back, okay? Don't let your guard down for a second. No matter what."

"Promise," Murphy gestured. "Come on, Glenn, let's go see what the others need."

Glenn tried to ease past Connor but the Irishman was fast, seizing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him back so they were face to face.

"Glenn, right?" Glenn nodded silently. "You seem like a good kid. A nice kid, really."

Connor grabbed the Korean's chin, holding him just a bit too tightly, "But if my brother doesn't come back – if something were to happen, if God Himself were to strike him down – well..."

Connor's nails dug into his skin, "If he doesn't come back alive, I'm gonna kill ya. I'm gonna kill ya, I'm gonna skin ya, and then we're all gonna eat ya. Do you understand me?"

Glenn's nod was more panicked this time.

"There's a good lad," Connor released him to pat his cheek, his smile back. "Be careful out there."

Glenn wasn't sure if he should nod or salute or bow because all of a sudden he was afraid of someone he was sure would protect him at all costs.

**xXx**

Connor and Daryl were perched high up on the RV, taking a watch together. They sat back to back, bow and crossbow (respectively) sat at their feet. Connor offered the hunter a smoke and he took it, both lighting up almost in unison.

"So you're just lettin' Murphy go?" Daryl drawled, elbows braced on his knees. "Just like that?"

"He's a big boy," Connor forced out, "I trust him in a fight, but this is...it's different now. This isn't a bar fight, this is the whole world against us."

"You just don't trust him out there without you," the redneck was watching said Korean and Irishman load up into one of the cars. "Kid's fast on his feet from what I hear. Sure he'll take care of him."

"He fuckin' better," Connor muttered around his cigarette, taking sweet long puffs of nicotine.

"Yer not even gonna say goodbye?" Daryl gestured toward the truck, Murphy was staring at the RV "He's your brother and he's lookin' over here like you kicked his puppy."

"I already said my peace," Connor half-lied, "I know he'll be back"

Daryl sighed, smoke pouring from his lips and nose, "No you don't."

"I can't stop him," the Irishman spat, "I can't change his mind no matter what I say. If I get close to him I might smack him over the head and lock him up. I don't want him to go but he's goin' anyway, sayin' goodbye isn't going to change that."

Connor dug a hand into his hair, fisting the strands to try and get ahold of himself, "He knows better than to go out there and get himself killed."

Daryl wasn't sure what to say. He nudged the blonde with his elbow, getting his attention.

"It's just a day," Daryl stated. "The Chinaman said he'd hole them up somewhere safe for the worst part of the night then they'd come right back."

" 'M not gonna sleep a bit," Connor muttered, mostly to himself.

"Would you stop mopin' already?" Daryl elbowed him again, getting a yelp. "You can take the night watch with me if you want. Keep ya company."

"Thanks."

Daryl raised his hand in a wave at the younger MacManus, doing it for both of them.

Murphy looked put out but he hopped in the truck nonetheless.

* * *

**Oh no, more plot! Ooooo! I'm thinking of copyrighting the term "Walker Whisperers"**


	6. With the Group II

**Had to cut this in half because it was pushing 35 pages. I know, no smut, and it makes me frustrated. But backstory! ALL THE BACKSTORY! Just so later one when I do episode chaps I can just write their pieces in it and not have to explain a lot of crap. Establish relationships and make it less weird, you know? I'm so sorry it's going SOOO slow, but I keep cranking more out.**

* * *

Evening was settling over Atlanta before they found a good convenience store to loot, one Glenn hadn't been in. The door had been locked but Murphy had taken care of that with a silenced bullet, ushering the Korean inside with quick motions. One had a backpack and the other a plain black duffel, they filled them with as much food and bandages as they could find.

Glenn stole looks at the dark haired twin when he could, absently shoving cans of green beans into his backpack. They hadn't spoken much and the few walkers outside didn't seem to take any notice of them, this was the perfect time.

"So...is it just you and your brother?" Glenn finally decided to ask.

Murphy was peering inside the glass counter for anything useful, "Aye. Back in Ireland we helped our Ma on the farm till we were old enough to make it here. We met our Da a while back but he's...he's off somewhere. Probably holed up in Boston."

"Boston?" Glenn plucked up some band-aids from their shelves. "Is that where you guys lived?"

Murphy tensed for only a moment, "For a year or two, yeah."

"Boston's got some crazy people," the Korean whistled under his breath. "They were on the news for a while, before the walkers. A lot of mafia died there. Do you remember that?"

Murphy dumped the display of lighters into his bag, snagging all the jerky as well, "Yeah, I think I remember."

"They say they were killed by angels," there was a note of awe in Glenn's voice.

"Angels?" the batteries went in next. "I doubt that."

"Whoever they were, they're awesome," Glenn found some Spam on the bottom shelf and shoved those in "My mom wouldn't shut up about them for a while. They killed bad guys. That's pretty cool, huh?"

Murphy hid his pleased smile, "So where are your parents?"

"My dad ran off a long time ago," the Korean checked the expiration date of the chips, taking a few of them. "My mom...I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Glenn started feeling that familiar sadness in his chest. He looked over to thank him but he froze. Murphy was bending over to snag a single carton of cigarettes off the floor, jeans stretched tight across his ass, the rip along his thigh pulling to reveal a pale slice of skin. The Korean's mouth dropped open dumbly, he pushed back the brim of his cap to get a better look.

It was blatant and crude but those jeans were _really_ tight.

"What did you do?"

"Huh?" Glenn grunted.

"Real articulate, aren't you?" Murphy teased, standing up and turning to look at him. "What did you do before all 'a this?"

"I was a pizza boy," Glenn replied, watching the Irishman hop the counter to get to the cigarettes.

"You don't have 'ta lie to me," Murphy tisked as he tossed cartons into his bag, he could hear the waver in the younger man's voice, "I'm not gonna judge ya."

Glenn felt his ears pink up, "I'm not lying."

Murphy shrugged, making more room in the duffel for his packs, "Okay, man."

The sun was disappearing over the buildings, blue evening falling more thickly between the streets. They continued to small talk, missing the three walkers who ambled down the sidewalk. One stopped and the other two followed, pushing open the door and squeezing in. The bell over the door was the only thing to alert the two humans.

"Shit," Glenn fumbled for his ball bat, fingers starting to shake as the three walkers made a beeline for him. "Shit, shit!"

Murphy moved as smooth as a snake through the displays, slipping behind the Korean and wrapping his arms around him as he often did with Connor. His cheek brushed the boy's ear, he could feel the race of both their hearts.

"Be so quiet and still for me, okay?" Murphy rasped, eyes trained on the slow walkers as he backed them up towards the corner of the shop.

"What are you doing?" Glenn was on the verge of hyperventilating. "Dude, we need to run."

"Run where?" Murphy reasoned coolly. "The back way it boarded up, if you didn't notice. No windows, and they've got the door."

Glenn almost stumbled, the Irishman held him up.

Murphy grinned and turned his head, lips brushing the the boy's warm ear, "Trust me, boy-o."

Glenn realized he totally did. Trust him, that was. Even as Murphy manhandled him back and pushed him into the corner, he trusted him. The Irishman took off his coat and shoved it onto the Korean, growling at him to put it on and something about if he smelled like him he'd be fine. Glenn obeyed and cowered into the corner, the other man's body boxing him in. Murphy pulled his rosary out from beneath his shirt and stared the walkers down, they were coming closer faster than before.

"Stop."

Murphy's voice was solemn, sure and stronger than Glenn had ever heard it before – _he_ even stopped breathing. Shockingly the walkers slowed down, inching to a stop only a few feet away from them. They grunted and groaned but they did in fact stop. Though confidant on the outside, Murphy was shaking like a leaf on the inside. His mind raced, trying to think of what Connor would say to them.

"There's nothing here for you, my children, _nothing_" Murphy's voice shook for just a second, he wasn't as good as his brother was at dealing with the dead, "leave this place."

Now he sounded like every priest in a bad movie.

Two of the walkers reluctantly turned and started shuffling away, looking back now and then but their feet kept dragging them forward. They pushed through the door and disappeared down the sidewalk.

"You're hungrier than them, aren't ya?" Murphy asked the remaining walker, a female with all her teeth exposed. "Kneel and you'll get what you deserve."

The walker growled but slowly dropped to it's knees, shaking as it suppressed the urge to rip and bite into the two men. Murphy pulled out his gun and aimed it carefully, resting her face in his sights.

"Father," he prayed softly, the other hand clutching his rosary, "save your daughter from herself. I release her from her corrupt shell into your hands. Amen."

The silencer did it's job, the bullet nailed her right between the eyes.

Murphy turned to face the other, "We need to hurry, they're starting to smell you."

Glenn was trembling, he'd never seen anything like this, "S-Smell us."

"No, boy-o, they smell _you,_" Murphy stuffed his gun back into it's holster. "It's you they want."

Glenn started inching down the wall and away from him, the Irishman's face pinched up in confusion.

"Why didn't they try to kill you?" Glenn's voice was raising with each word, he pointed to the dead walker. "Why did she listen to you? Why did they _all_ listen to you?"

Murphy's eyes darted to the door, "Glenn-"

"Are you bit?" the Korean could feel himself growing into a hysterical fit. "Are you some kind of new zombie?"

Murphy reached out and touched the man's arm, being as gentle as he would be with a wild animal, "You have to promise me you won't tell anyone what just happened."

"You just _spoke_ to walkers and they fucking _listened,_ Murphy!" Glenn yanked his arm away. "What the fuck?!"

Murphy grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall, shoving his forearm across his chest to pin him and slapping his hand over his mouth to quiet his cries. They were close again, hips brushing so much Glenn could feel the edge of the sheathed knives digging into his thighs.

"Be quiet or they'll come back," Murphy hissed, suddenly getting nervous that the boy was going to go back to camp and tell them all the truth. "I won't ask much of you, I swear, but I need you to keep this secret. The group doesn't know us yet and if they found out..."

Murphy's jaw ticked, he was afraid his mouth was trembling. He remembered how Merle's hand felt around his throat, the strength inside of Dixon scared him. The distrust in the other men's eyes, the filthy looks Shane kept giving him, they weren't accepting them. Not yet, at least.

"I don't know what they'd do, but I'm scared to find out," there was real fear in the Irishman's voice. "Not forever, just a bit...can you keep quiet?"

Murphy slowly removed his hand, letting the boy take a deep breath, "Consider it a favor for saving your life just now."

Glenn wet his lips, unsure what to say, "Thank you."

Murphy pushed up on his toes, pressing a kiss to the Korean's smooth forehead. He couldn't explain how grateful he was but he hoped to get it across. By the way Glenn shuddered under his coat he was pretty sure his message was received. He left him there to get back to his duffel, deciding to grab more food. Night was settling quickly, they didn't have much time before they had to hunker down.

Glenn stayed against the wall for a while, trying desperately to calm his heart and rub the flush from his cheeks. His forehead was still burning from the contact. Murphy had just talked to a walker like it was a real person, like it could understand. And they had! They'd actually obeyed him!

How was he going to keep this quiet?

**xXx**

_Back At Camp_

Connor slumped into his tent. The night was too dark to see anymore and Daryl wanted to patrol the perimeter. His eyes were too tired to be of any use. He hadn't eaten anything since Murphy had left, his stomach was in knots worrying about his twin. He stripped off his shirt and pants, flopping down on top of all the blankets and stretching out. He hadn't tried to sleep without Murphy in...

"Jesus" Connor rubbed his palm across his eyes. He hadn't slept without his brother in ages. They'd been side-by-side for years. Slept in the same room since birth, beds next to each other, and again in their housing. He'd listened to his brother's heavy breaths and snores for years, had felt his presence next to him. He'd never had to question where he was or what he was doing, he'd always just known.

Connor wrapped his hand around the rosary on his stomach, fingers digging into the wood like it would show him where he was. He should've gone with them but three men were easier to take down than just two. He'd thought he'd trusted Glenn enough but he was just a kid. How would he handle himself in a fight? How hard could he swing that bat?

Connor was getting dizzy from it all.

"Keep him safe," Connor prayed quietly. "Keep him alive and safe, I beg you."

**xXx**

In Atlanta, Murphy clutched his rosary.

"What's wrong?" Glenn whispered. They sat side by side in an abandoned building with boarded up windows, backs to the wall and guns in their laps.

"Nothin', " Murphy brought the cross to his mouth for a kiss. "Con's worryin' about me, is all."

The other looked uncertain, "You can tell?"

"He's 'ma brother," Murphy drawled against the wood, my twin. Believe me, I can tell his every thought. I'm sure he's layin' awake right now, prayin' for us."

"Does it work?" Glenn asked, fingers dancing along the gun he'd borrowed from the darker twin. "Like...has it worked for you guys?"

"Trust me. If you want anyone in this world to pray for you, it's Connor," Murphy's smile was one of pride in his brother, "From his lips to God's ear, I swear it."

"Good," Glenn relaxed a bit against the wall, looking out into the darkness. "That's good."

"Aye."

**xXx**

Murphy offered to drive back and Glenn let him, spending the ride pressed up against the door and fiddling with the end of his cap. The sun was trying desperately to make an appearance over the horizon but it wasn't quite there yet. The chill of the night was clinging to every surface like dust. He was busy running the past twenty-four hours through his head. In the dead of night they'd taken turns napping, he could still feel the weight of the man's head on his shoulder as he slept.

If it hadn't been for the little walker incident, it would've been really nice.

Murphy pulled into camp and parked the car, they sat there in silence. After a few moments the Irishman reached over and touched the boy's arm.

"You okay?" Murphy asked lightly.

"I'm just tired," Glenn assured him, thumb and forefinger pressed into his eyes. He dropped his hand and looked over, prepared to tell the other that he couldn't keep his secret, but Murphy had a desperate look on his face. It was like he already knew he was going to tell, like he'd already lost hope. Glenn forced himself to smile, grabbing the door handle and pushing it open. Murphy followed, together they walked back into camp. Everyone seemed to be asleep except for Dale, the older man looking well-rested and on top of the RV to keep watch.

Glenn stopped at the door and thumbed behind him, "I'm going to take in the supplies and head to bed."

"Good idea," Murphy nodded in agreement, still gun-shy. "Try to get some sleep, man. You did good out there."

"You too," Glenn studied the other man's face, some lines of true exhaustion on his face. "I thought you slept?"

"Not much, you just make a good pillow," he admitted reluctantly, offering his duffel. "Take what you need."

"Thanks," Glenn took the bag with more than a bit of surprise, he'd assumed that what Murphy had gathered would belong to the brothers. "You look ready to pass out, man."

"Nah, I'll be fine. I'll sleep later," Murphy waved him off. "I'm going to get started on breakfast though. Fry some squirrel up, turn it into bacon or somethin'. Make the Dixon boys right at home. Here."

Murphy quickly dug into the duffel, pulling out a box of instant mix.

"Got some pancake stuff," he shook the box pointedly. "I'll give this a shot."

Glenn's stomach growled so loudly he was sure he was blushing.

"I'll save some for ya, if you want," Murphy offered with a catty grin.

Glenn nodded eagerly, heart warming up at the sentiment. Food was scarce and precious. Shane's rule was that if you weren't up when it was served then you were shit out of luck. To offer to save some was rare indeed.

"Thank you," was all he could say.

Murphy nodded, turning to walk away only to find his arm seized. He looked back up at the Korean, the boy's little smile worth more than the food he held.

"No, seriously," Glenn replied, genuinely touched. "Thank you."

The other man nodded again, this time slower, "No problem. _Really_."

It was then that Murphy knew that the boy wouldn't say anything about the walker problem.

**xXx**

The compound was still bathed in the soft blue light of an early day when he started pouring the make-shift pancake mix. He was sitting cross-legged in front of the pit, a hole in the ground filled with coals and logs. He'd already fried up some thin lengths of meat and plated them, creating a form of bacon that tasted pretty good. The morning was still chilly and goosebumps had broken out across the exposed skin of his neck.

Connor emerged from his tent with dark smudges under his eyes and a dark blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was still in his sleep shirt and some old boxers, exhaustion giving lead to his steps. He shuffled toward the fire with several yawns, heading up behind Murphy. Connor knelt down and wrapped his covered arms around his brother, blanketing him and pressing right up against his back. He dug his chin into his shoulder, eyes falling shut as he finally got his first moments of rest since the man left the camp.

"I felt you prayin' for me," Murphy murmured, plucking a piece of meat off the plate and holding it out for him. Connor murmured an affirmative, taking the offered bite. Murphy leaned back into his brother's embrace and took in the heat, letting out a rough sigh as his own fears melted away.

"Did you run into any trouble?" Connor inquired sleepily, words slurring a little as he tried to keep himself from drifting off against his brother.

"Couple of walkers, nothing I couldn't handle," he replied honestly.

Connor nodded against the side of his head, "Did you bless them off?"

"Just one."

"Good job," Connor gripped him just a bit tighter in a hug. "Make sure you wrap up some for the kids and then get to bed."

Murphy gave him a bright smile as his brother tucked the blanket around him and stood, leaving him to finish cooking. He headed back to his tent but got stopped by Daryl halfway there, the redneck was sleep-ruffled and couldn't have gotten an hour more sleep than he himself had stolen. The man snagged his arm lightly, stopping him.

"How'd it go?" he asked, an edge of nervousness to his own voice. "Did they get hurt?"

"They're fine," Connor's smile was tired. "You should get some food."

The hunter didn't let go of his arm, "Did you sleep?"

"No," Connor replied honestly, "but I will now. Thanks for stayin' up with me, you didn't have to."

Daryl dropped his hand and shrugged, trying to erase the real concern he'd felt. Connor was the one to reach out this time, fingers curling along the redneck's shoulder as if to pull him closer. He wanted to hug him, he really did, but he pushed down that urge.

"Conn..." Daryl muttered, stepping closer. For just a second they were close enough to kiss, to hug, to do anything. But all they managed was to breathe each other's air for a few breaths before they stepped away. They walked away, one disappearing into his tent while the other took toward his own in long strides.

It was a ruined moment, both too hesitant to take it a step further but too far along to pretend they hadn't felt the heat of it.

**xXxXxXx**

Daryl couldn't be sure how long exactly he'd been cleaning out the squirrel guts from his crossbow but he was pretty sure it hadn't been long enough to warrant a fight. One minute he was looking up and Connor had gotten his brother into a headlock and the next the twins were bare chested and brawling like two underground boxers. Glenn was watching them dart and dodge around one another like he was hypnotized, fingernails shoved between his teeth to gnaw on.

Daryl was on his feet and crossing the camp before he could really think it over too hard. He grabbed Glenn by the collar and shook him hard.

"What the hell is going on?" he barked in his face.

"They're training!" Glenn sighed in relief when he was released, rubbing at his neck where the material had dug into him. "Jeez. Murphy's really good with his knives, right? Well look."

Daryl turned his full attention to the brothers. Connor had his fists up defensively, sweat beading across his chest and pooling along his collarbone. He was grinning like a school boy as he circled his brother with quick rabbit hops, seemingly charged by the sun itself.

Glenn watched him stare, "Dude?"

Daryl grunted lowly, still watching the way the blonde's muscles flexed and coiled beneath his skin.

Glenn cleared his throat loudly, snapping the redneck out of his daze, "He's got Murphy's knives on his belt."

"What's the point?" Daryl scoffed. "They're just gonna beat the shit out of each other. Waste of energy."

"The _point_ is for Murphy to either out-wrestle him or get his knives off his belt" Glenn reiterated "They just started. It's good practice."

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, Glenn slowly copied the stance. He looked the redneck over and then himself, cheeks burning when he realized how stupid he looked.

"Never seen either of 'em fight before," Daryl admitted.

"Murphy told me they got really good at defending themselves in Ireland. The bars there are pretty harsh on skinny guys," Glenn nodded, parroting what the twin had told him earlier. "Connor's been practicing his grappling and bow, so Murphy's trying to learn now."

Daryl was surprised to hear that, "He hasn't already?"

"I asked that too," the Korean shrugged, "he said he didn't have an interest. He's really good with a gun and he's ace with those knives. But he's been complaining about learning to defend himself without a weapon. Connor said he's sick of hearing him whine about it."

The redneck still wasn't bought, "Murphy's always got a knife on him. Never seen him without."

"That what I said," Glenn shrugged, looking to Murphy before lowering his voice, "I wasn't supposed to hear it, but apparently they got ganged up on. Murphy got his knives taken away. He was basically helpless."

"Oh," Daryl couldn't imagine either of the strong Irishmen overwhelmed, "huh."

"Come on, brat, I'm not here to dance," Connor teased, coaxing his brother to take a few more swings at him. "That's right, Murph, get angry."

Murphy was struggling to land a hit, he couldn't even grab the blonde.

"This is a stupid idea," Daryl tisked. "You can't learn how to fight with someone who cares about you. You need someone to break your nose and tell you to walk it off."

Murphy surged at his brother, trying to tackle him. Connor grabbed him and used his leverage against him, flipping him easily onto his back. Daryl decided that was enough and took off his hunting knife, shoving it into Glenn's hands.

"Hey!" Daryl whistled sharply, stepping into their fighting space. "Give me one."

Connor caught on quickly, unlatching one of his brother's knives from his hip and tossing it to the other hunter. Murphy looked between them in confusion, jumping to his feet to realize he was stuck between the two of them.

"Ain't gonna learn nothin' havin' your brother teach you," Daryl spat. "Come get it if you want it."

"Two guys, Murph, what are you gonna do?" Connor mocked, bouncing from foot to foot. "Come on, brother, think fast. We want your food and your life. You better get ready."

Daryl and Connor closed in together, circling the other MacManus like a couple of cats. Murphy's eyes danced wildly between them, unsure, but soon decided to charge at the redneck. Daryl ducked and tried to flip him over his back but the Irishman managed to get his arms around his neck.

"Choke him out quick!" Connor barked out the command, moving in slowly to get behind his brother to pry him off. Daryl grunted harshly as he lost air, the Irishman dropping him to the ground. They wrestled like a couple of school boys, the redneck eventually forcing the other to release his neck. Grass pulled and broke beneath their heavy bodies, dirt smearing their backs and arms as they tried to force each other into the earth. They rolled over and over but eventually Murphy came out on top, shoving his forearm hard into the man's neck.

But he forgot about Connor and in seconds his brother's arms had wrapped him in a headlock.

"This ain't fair!" Murphy growled, scratching uselessly at the blonde's limbs.

"You've gotta earn your life now, my dear brother," Connor muttered in his ear, breath hot on his already flushed skin. "You have to fight. I can't always be there."

That sparked something deep and primal inside the darker twin. He saw himself alone, Connor erased from his memories like he'd never been there. Sleeping alone in the tent, cooking alone, going into town with Glenn with no one to pray for his return. No one to worry about his life, no one to take his worries into concern, no one to care for him. Misery swamped him.

Murphy released his brother's arms to ball his hands together and shove his elbow deep into the man's gut. Connor sputtered and stumbled away, his breath leaving him in one great huff. Daryl tried to push him off but Murphy was determined to force him on his back, shoving his knee into the redneck's ribs and yanking one of his strong arms up behind his back. Daryl was barely getting leverage when the Irishman yanked the knife off his hip and sliced a burning line across the back of his neck. Murphy barely had to look before he threw the knife, slicing a clean line through his brother's jeans and thigh. It whizzed past him to stick in the pile of firewood a dozen feet away.

"I win," Murphy announced solemnly. He got to his feet, releasing the redneck to stalk toward Connor. His brother held up his hands in surrender, the other man looked furious.

"Murph," Connor took a step back, "calm down."

Murphy grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him into a hug. His brother's grip was firm and his fingers dug in hard enough to hurt but Connor didn't mind. He hugged him back, his heart swelling up when he realized his twin was shaking like a leaf.

"You're not goin' anywhere," Murphy rasped in his ear, cheek wet with sweat and maybe a few tears, "nowhere I can't follow."

"Beidh mé i gcónaí anseo," Connor kissed his brother's face, holding him even tighter. "Tá mé chomh brón orm, mo dheartháir milis."

Murphy couldn't bear the thought of his brother not being there. Who would tell him such sweet things in their native tongue? Who else would promise to always be there for him? He was no one else's _dear_ _brother,_ he was Connor's one and only. And Connor was his own.

Glenn and Daryl (who had managed to sit up) watched the two of them with an equally fond look. They realized in the same moment that they were staring and they looked away, not wanting to be caught intruding on an intimate moment like that. Sucking up his embarrassment, Glenn walked over and loomed over the redneck. Daryl was fingering the cut on the back of his neck and the Korean was squinting to see it closer.

"It looks shallow," Glenn observed.

The redneck rolled his eyes, "No shit, Chinaman."

Glenn knelt down and hushed his voice, risking a glance over at the embracing brothers, "They really love each other, don't they?"

Daryl looked too, his only reply a slow nod. Little bubbles of jealousy welled up in his chest at the sight. The way Murphy clung to Connor, the sweet way the blonde crooned to him in Gaelic, the way he carded his fingers through his dark hair...it was heartbreakingly tender. He hated himself for thinking it but he wanted to be in Murphy's position. Or maybe he wanted that kind of relationship with _his_ brother. He loved Merle, that was his big brother, but what the twins had was something special.

Two fully grown men watched two other men, wishing desperately to switch positions with one or the other.

It was kind of pathetic.

**xXxXxXx**

One week later, after a brief discussion among those gathered around the fire, Lori extended the olive branch and asked the brother's to come sit with them. Ed had gone to bed so Carol and Sophia sat among them. Andrea, Amy, Glenn, Dale, Daryl, Carl, Lori, Jacqui, and even Shane sat in a large circle all together. T-Dog as well but he had his handkerchief pulled over his eyes and his legs stretched out in front of him, stealing a nap. Their bellies were full and the night was pleasantly cool, an air of comfort blanketing the camp.

Daryl was on one side of the fire with his crossbow in his lap, a small screwdriver in his hand as he tried to adjust the sights on his weapon. His brother was passed out in their tent and he felt safe sitting with the others. Merle always gave him shit when he spent any time with the rest of the camp. On the other side sat the MacManus twins; Connor in a lawn chair, his brother sitting on the ground at his feet. Murphy had his head tilted back against his brother's knee, smoke rings billowing from his lips to dissipate into the air. He wouldn't admit it but he was kind of showing off for the staring Glenn, the Korean smiling to himself and ducking his head when Murphy tried to meet his eyes.

Carl sighed lightly, "I remember when Dad would light the fireplace and tell stories."

Lori pet through his hair, trying to smile, "I know, honey."

Carl looked to Shane longingly, the older man shook his head, "I'm crap at telling stories, champ."

Murphy tapped his brother's leg, "You're pretty good, Con."

Connor flushed under the dozen stares that fell on him, "Well, yeah, in bars when everyone's drunk off their-"

He cut himself off and gestured, not wanting to use foul language in front of the kids.

Sophia shifted restlessly at her mother's side, "Can _you_ tell us a story?"

"Yes, totally," Amy raised her hand, "I third it."

Carl perked up, obviously excited at the prospect, "Please Connor?"

The blonde's nose scrunched up, "I dunno-"

"We'll go to bed early if you tell us!" Sophia chimed.

Carl nodded eagerly, "We promise."

Connor didn't want to be rude but his nerves were fluttering in his stomach, "Darlin's, I'm not really much of a-

He looked over the boy's head to see Lori with her hands up as if praying, mouthing 'please' like it's all she'd ever wanted. The prospect of kids going to bed on time seemed appealing to Carol as well. The others didn't show it but some of them moved forward in their seats, glad to have some kind of entertainment. A grin graced Murphy's face when he realized his brother was giving in, shooting a wink at Sophia that made her grin and bounce in her seat.

"Okay, fine!" Connor threw up his hands. "You win."

"Let Sophia choose," Murphy stated, pulling his cigarette from his lips, "she's about to pop over there."

The other twin eyed Carl, "Is that alright?"

Carl nodded, seeming happy just to get a story.

"Alright," Connor's eyes fell to the flushed girl, "what kind of story do you want, sweetheart?"

"Pick an action story," Carl stood up, eyes up to the sky as he thought. "No! One about a warrior! Dad used to tell me about King Arthur all the time! You'd love it, Sophia."

"You let her pick," Lori scolded in a laugh, pulling the boy back down into his chair. He obeyed with a smothered pout, looking pleadingly to the other child.

"I want..." Sophia looked over to Daryl shyly, "one about...about..."

"About what, darlin'?" Murphy urged.

Sophia gave that childish _big-eyes-you-know-what-I-want-to-say_ look to Carl, his lips formed a little 'o' of realization. He blurted out what she was thinking, causing a real blush to stain her face.

"Tell us a story about Daryl!"

An awkward silence fell over the group. They all avoided looking at the confused hunter and Sophia looked like she was going to dissolve into a red puddle of embarrassment. Murphy gave a good-natured laugh before his brother smacked him up the back side of his head.

Connor smiled across the fire, "A story about Daryl, huh?"

"Please?" Sophia asked, her voice tenderly soft.

Daryl scoffed, slicking some oil across the strings of his bow, "I ain't nothin' to tell a story about, kid."

Carol and Lori shushed the group, their kids bright-eyed and eager. A hush fell over the fire, Connor moved to the edge of his seat and cleared his throat. Everyone's eyes were on him but he didn't feel it as a weight anymore, more as a challenge.

"Once upon a time...there was a kingdom, long forgotten by man's song and word but as real as the blood in my veins," Connor began, raising his hand high and flexing it. "Built high with white stone, surrounded by thick gates. Sturdy in a land where the grass grew in great leaps and bounds over hill and through valley. The air was cool and crisp, the sun strong enough to grow crops taller than a man's head. It's women were ruddy and plump, it's children merry, and it's men stalwart and hard working. The water there was clear enough to see through, like mirrors bordered by rock and weed. Their pigs grew fat and cows ate hardy, cared for and well supplied by their loving masters."

"What was it called?" Carl asked.

"Aonach," Connor's brogue came through thick with the Gaelic word. "This kingdom was set miles before our world. Nothing could touch us without first passing through Aonach."

Sophia nodded along, trying to understand, "Like Heaven?"

"Aye, a bit like that," the blonde assured her. "Built to protect and watch over us"

"But who watched over them?" she wondered.

Carl hushed her loudly, the Irishman shot him a hard glare.

"None of that now, lad."

Carl obeyed quickly, not wanting make the story stop. He knew Connor would quit if he acted out.

"The people of Aonach looked to one place for guidance and justice, the beloved royal family," Connor continued, painting the picture for his intrigued audience. "Their King was old but wise, he bore the crown with all the grace of his ancestors and ruled as well as any of 'em. The Queen was matronly yet noble, her skin paler than the pure driven snow and lips the color of a rose itself. She was generous and sweet-tempered, she loved each villager as if they were her own. She did this because God had called home every child she'd bore. All except one boy, the Prince, now a man."

Sophia looked to Daryl, he kept his eyes firmly on his weapon.

"He was a a tall, handsome man with broad shoulders and a demeanor far too serious for one living in a time of great peace," Connor continued, ignoring his brother's knowing grin. "While his mother and father grew pliant and lax with the years of tranquility, the Prince only grew more anxious and worried. Every night he was plagued with dreams of dark beasts."

Murphy's grin fell, eyes glazing over as he recalled his own dark dreams. His brother reached down and touched his shoulder, a reassuring gesture that managed to calm him down.

"He shared his nightmares with the King and Queen but they thought him troubled and said no more on the subject. After so long they even refused to listen. Some of the courtiers even accused him of war-mongering, of trying to stir up malice when there was none to be found."

"Why didn't they listen?" Carl interrupted, seemingly attached the story already. "Are they stupid?"

"He was still but a child in their eyes," Connor held out his palms, "and the word of a child is nothing to that of a king."

The boy sat back in his seat, arms crossed over his small chest, "That's not fair."

"No it was not," Connor smiled to himself but kept going, "it infuriated the Prince. He gathered his bow and sword and left to hunt the Bison that so loved to graze in the valleys."

"He didn't just drop it, did he?" Shane scoffed. Most of the group wrenched their eyes from the Irishman to their leader, surprised he'd spoken up at all. He'd been listening with a frown the entire time, they'd assumed such a thing as story telling was below him. The strange looks only made the dark haired man frown harder.

"What?" he grunted. "It's the same thing in movies. They never listen to the _one_ person who can help."

Murphy dropped his head to hide his smile. Shane really was full of surprises.

"So!" Connor caught their attention, "The Prince went out past the village, through the gate, and off into the fields in search of prey. He found one soon enough and steadied his bow, lining up his sights to take the bison out with one hit. He just about released the arrow when...when everything changed."

Sophia moved closer to her mom, wide-eyed as she sensed the dangerous part of the story coming.

"Thick clouds were rolling in from the south, from the Farlands, where Aonach was charged to watch."

Murphy pulled in a few great lungfuls of smoke and released it in thick puffs over the fire. Carl watched in fascination as the flames licked up wave after wave. The hotboxing made Murphy dizzy but it was a pretty cool effect.

"The Prince raced across the field to the top of a hill, looking over the never-ending land to see what was coming. There was a thick line of black in the distance, too far away for him to make out the shape. One dark blotch was close, taking the figure of a ash-skinned man with dark armor. It was barely a mile away. He shifted his aim and took the shot. The man collapsed but he only had a moment of relief before it rose back up. He shot again and again, emptying his entire quiver. The ash-skinned beast only rose to it's feet and kept walking, a dozen arrows protruding from it's body."

That set an edge to the group. They all thought the same thing. Walkers.

"The Prince ran back to the castle and told his parents what he saw," Connor's tone had turned darker, "he told them his suspicions of the dark horizon, that there was a swarm of these figures, but they only agreed to send out a messenger."

Carl was scowling as deeply as Shane now.

"Despite his parents protests the Prince stormed off to the armory, strapping on his best armor and stocking his quiver. He rallied the royal troops and urged them to do the same, stoking the ever-present need within all their hearts to protect their kingdom by filling their heads with images of those ash-skinned men that laid just on the horizon. They smeared dark war paint over their faces, a stark contrast to their sickly pale enemies. His generals were readying the horses when his father summoned him back inside."

Andrea leaned forward on her elbows, a shine to her eyes.

"His father stood there with a scroll, a message," Connor gestured grandly. "He looked relieved. 'There is no need to worry, my son,' the king assured him, 'There will be no war'. 'Why?' he was bewildered, 'What do they want?'. 'Nothing from us, I assure you,' the king was so calm, 'we are to suffer no loss'. 'Then who?' the Prince bellowed, 'Who will lose this day, father, I ask you!'. The king dared to smile at his son, 'It is not us they want. It is only the humans. They say they will pass by us without harm'. You can imagine the Prince's rage at this. How dare he? He could he? 'The humans trust us and we show their enemies our belly? Father, you must reconsider!'."

Connor released a great sigh, shoulders slumping, "But his father had never seen the ravages of war that his ancestors had. The King was an old man under a metal hat and he was _scared_, frightened right down to his bones of this new enemy. To give up on a race he'd never seen was nothing to him."

Sophia looked sympathetic.

"The Prince left without a word and told the troops of his father's decision. Then he told them of his own."

Murphy got to his feet and stalked along the outskirts of the group, stopping just behind Glenn. He leaned down and whispered in the Korean's ear, propositioning him. He knew where the story was going and the kids looked really into it, why not step it up? Glenn nodded in agreement and followed him a few feet away, they knelt down together and he shared where he thought the story was going.

"The Prince led those who decided to fight outside the city walls and across the field. The shadows on the horizon revealed themselves to be an army and they were all that stood against them," Connor cut his hand through the air in a sweep. "At the front stood the Prince, full of righteous worth and ready to fight."

"Avast!" Murphy jumped up beside his brother, startling the blonde. He swiped an arrow out of Connor's quiver and held it out like a sword. He'd smeared dirt along his cheeks and forehead and he was baring his teeth, war-ready. Sophia and Carl smothered their laughter behind their hands, Daryl snickered, and the rest of the group calmed their racing hearts. He'd startled them.

"Are you going to let me tell the story?" Connor snapped, smacking his brother on the thigh.

"Go ahead," Murphy replied calmly, shrugging before going back to his war face.

"O...kay," the blonde cleared his throat, "the Prince led his men into battle, sure in his cause. The dark beasts rose to meet them head on, armies clashing like thunder. The Prince found himself face-to-face with his new enemy and he found them more rotted and horrifying than he had imagined. Once-men with sunken opaque eyes and razor sharp teeth. They used, not weapons, but their own hands to try and tear apart the soldiers."

Glenn came at Murphy with dead look on his face, growling a bit and holding his hands out. He looked like he was imitating a cross between a classic zombie and Frankenstein. Murphy gave a cinematic cry and lunged at the Korean, swinging his arrow like a sword. Glenn went with it and fell, hopping back up almost instantly.

"They were an evil race of never ending, undying enemies."

Murphy slayed Glenn over and over in a dozen different ways but the younger boy kept getting back up, playing the part of the enemy. Connor told the story over their theatrics, describing the battle to lace into their actions. It was a more light-hearted take on the macabre story. Carl actually cheered when Murphy put the Korean in a headlock.

"The dark clouds that had settled in fell over the battlefield," Connor hushed his tone, Murphy and Glenn grinded to a halt. "It covered every soldier and beast with a fog so thick you could cup it in your hands. It filled their lungs and blinded them until all they could see was the enemy in front of him and the brother at his back. It was terrifying, it struck them cold...but they did not run. And why do you think that was?"

"The Prince," Sophia answered from the circle of her mother's arms.

"Aye," Murphy stuck his arrow into the ground, grinning through the grime on his face. "When you have a leader who is brave and true, who'll fight with or without you...you can do nothin' but follow him into the heart of Hell and back."

"And so they did," Connor sat back in his chair, a solemn look upon his face, "they fought on alongside their prince, they could hear his battle cries for miles though they could not see his face. Hours became days, days became weeks to months to years to decades."

Carl gaped, one of his hands clenched in his mother's.

"To this day they fight," Connor scooped up a stick and tossed it into the fire, sparks shooting up like fireflies. "Off in a valley of fog and blood, off in a place we could never reach...there's a prince who fights for us. There, year after year, he wages the war that almost never was. And there he will stay for all of eternity."

His voice died away with the crackle of the flames. The firelight danced in the group's eyes, each face reflecting an edge of sadness and knowing. Dale was the first to make any noise, clearing his throat and giving him a soft clap. Some followed him in a gentle applause, a grin on Carl's face but a deep frown marred Sophia's face.

Once the claps faded away, Sophia spoke out in a soft voice, "He's just stuck there."

"Aye," Connor's smile was sweet, a soothing balm over her worry. "To protect all that he loves and all that believe in him. Because that's what a Prince does."

Sophia's mouth curved into a smile, a sense of understanding coming over her face.

Connor, who had been carefully avoiding Daryl's stare, cast his eyes over the licks of the fire for that very hunter. He caught the older man grinning. The moment Daryl realized he was seen he ducked his head, draggins his crossbow back onto his lap to fiddle with the already oiled springs. Connor hid his smile behind his hand, snatching his arrow from his brother's hand as he passed him.

"Gimme that, you big show off," Connor scolded, but his brother was too busy shooting hot looks at Glenn and taking little bows to the admiring gazes.

"Connor's indulged you long enough, let's head to bed," Lori kissed her son's forehead. "I'll tuck you in."

"You too, baby," Carol stroked her girl's hair. "What do we say to the nice man?"

Sophia practically beamed at the Irishman, "Thank you, Connor."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," he smiled right back.

But when Sophia got up to leave it was Murphy she hugged around the waist, surprising everyone. Shock wrote itself over his features before he put a hand on her back, face warming at the innocent gesture. After a moment he scooped her up into his arm, getting her to giggle and cling harder. He told her goodnight in a few languages, making her blush.

And every clear, undisturbed night after that it became a tradition for Connor to make up a story about a member of the group. Each time Murphy and Glenn put on a little act, over-exagerated and almost comical so as to keep things light.

Amy picked a damsel in distress story only to see Murphy try to pick Glenn up in his arms. After a failed attempt it was the Irishman who jumped into the boy's arms, clinging onto his neck tight to force him to hold it. It had ended up with the two of them on the ground laughing at their inability to hold someone bridal style.

But not all stories ended kindly. Jacqui got one about a pryomancer who danced with flames and eventually got burned up in it all. The high point of that tale had been Murphy performing a neat spin kick over the fire that had resulted in some singe marks on his jeans.

Sophia became a flower who bloomed too big to stay rooted. Carl got to be a cowboy in an abandoned old west town. Even Murphy got one where he fought vampires. Glenn made the best fake-vampire with the way he could jump on Murphy's back and pretend to gnaw his neck open.

Slowly but surely the group grew to trust and accept the MacManus brothers.

All without knowing their last name.


	7. Daryl's Dream I

Daryl could feel himself waking up but he could tell something was off.

Daryl yawned deeply and stretched out, fingers tangled in sheets and digging into a mattress. His brow furrowed up, face buried in his pillow. A mattress? Where the hell had he gotten that? Everything smelled clean and he was warm, and with a shift of his body he realized he wasn't in his clothes. Just the rasp of boxers on his hips. He couldn't hear Merle snoring, either. His fingers dug around beside him and he couldn't find his crossbow.

Daryl jolted at that, yanking himself out of sleep. He twisted in the blanket and pushed himself up to sit, sucking in his great breaths as he started to panic. He had no clue where he was. The room was plain and filled with his things, his old things, things he'd left behind in his old house. All his jeans were piled on the floor and his big silver buckle he'd bought in Mexico was shining on one of the dressers. His guns were mounted on the wall, his worn leather jacket thrown across a low chair in the corner, and his crossbow sat against the wall without out a single arrow in it.

"What the fuck?" he muttered gruffly, digging his knuckles into his eyes to try and drive away any remaining sleep. He had to be hallucinating. There were other things, stuff he'd never seen. A plain jacket mingled with his own, a rosary was mounted on the wall, and a pair of pistols in holsters hanging from the back of the chair.

Someone behind him hummed and he froze. Fingernails skimmed his lower back, across a scar, and he cried out.

"Daryl?" that same someone sat up and laid their hands on him. Daryl nearly punched the dude in the face before he felt lips brushing his shoulder blade, the rasp of stubble stunning him into compliance. Those work calloused hands ran down his arms soothingly, slipping down to span across his ribs.

"You alright, D?" the sleepy man asked him, a fine bare chest pressing up against his back. It was too intimate to be anyone, too personal. He peered over his shoulder to get a face full of spikey blonde hair and the smell of clove soap in his nose, overwhelming him.

"Connor?" he managed to grunt out, looking about the room again.

"Aye, sweetheart," Connor nuzzled him, actually _nuzzled_ him, "you gave me a start. Did you have a nightmare again?"

Daryl scowled at being called _sweetheart_ and was ready to shove him off but something stopped him, a hot sensation along his neck that sent shivers down his back. Connor's kisses were sure and sweet, like he had every right in the world to touch him. Daryl looked down at himself and found his bare torso still scarred but cleaner than he'd seen in months, the Irishman's hands drifting along each little imperfection as if he were a map.

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled, pushing at him lightly.

Connor practically straddled him from behind, breath teasing across the hunter's cheek and ear as he pressed impossibly close. The Irishman's fingers dug into his hair and pushed his head to the side, teeth grazing across his jugular like he'd done it a thousand times. Daryl couldn't stop the grunt that escaped him, goosebumps crawling across his skin as a streak of lust shot through him.

"Must've had a bad one," Connor's brogue was like honey in his ears. "Did you dream about those zombies again?"

Daryl bristled, "No shit! The Walkers-"

Connor turned his head, their eyes meeting for the first time. Daryl relaxed the moment he lost himself in those blue depths, letting the other take his weight as he gave in.

"Walkers? You're giving them names now?" Connor sounded concerned. "Damn, D...you sure you don't want to talk about this? It's almost every night now."

Daryl tried again to protest, to explain himself, to ask what the hell was going on, to ask if they'd slept together or something because they were both bare chested, but he didn't get a chance. Connor leaned in and stole his mouth, swallowing down all his confusion and replacing it with mint and a certainty of his place right here in this bed.

"There's no zombies or Walkers or demons," Connor whispered into his mouth, causing his heart to flutter. "You're worryin' me. You sound like Murph, talkin' about shadows like this."

Daryl couldn't help himself and surged forward, knocking the blonde on his back and covering him easily with his broader body. He kissed him back with all the fire burning his belly, his movements clumsy and rough but the other didn't seem to mind. Connor only clung to him, giving himself over for whatever the redneck wanted.

And Daryl felt like he could do anything. He didn't even hesitate to run his hand down across the man's waist, feeling every inch of flesh he'd dreamed about since they'd met. Connor's legs threaded with his own, a heel hooking behind his thigh as if to press him closer.

"Everythin' okay in here?"

Daryl ripped himself off the man like he'd been burned, backing into a crouch and groping for the knife on his belt. When his fingers clawed across nothing but bare skin and elastic he huffed angrily, eyes going to the doorway to see the intruder.

It was Murphy, clad in some raggedy old jeans that weren't even done up. He looked like he'd just woken up as well but he already had a cigarette in his mouth, staring at the two of them without a hint of disgust or shock. If anything he was curious.

"We heard a shout," Murphy frowned at Daryl's defensive stance, "whoa there, Mountain Man. Nightmares?"

"It was nothin', " Connor sat up, reaching out for the hunter to get a sharp look, "D, come on, chill out. It's just us here."

"Is Daryl okay?" a familiar voice asked behind Murphy. Daryl's mouth dropped open uncharacteristically when Glenn's face appeared over Murpy's shoulder, concern etched into his eyes. He barely had enough on and he seemed roughed up, dark hair sticking up every which way.

"It's nothing, babe," Murphy assured him around a mouthful of smoke, "go back to bed."

"He looks freaked out," Glenn pointed out skeptically, pushing past the darker twin to give a little smile to the hunter. "Are you okay?"

Daryl sat down with a small huff, palm scrubbing across the back of his head, "Yeah, Chinaman, nothin' wrong. Just startled, I guess."

That seemed to satisfy to the Korean and he nodded, heading back out the door to give them some privacy. Murphy skimmed his hand up the boy's arm as he passed, getting an affectionate kiss on the shoulder for his effort.

"The fuck?" Daryl hissed lowly, turning to Connor. "Are they together or somethin'?"

"For, like, a year," Connor tisked and pushed his hand on the man's forehead, feeling for a fever. "Did you hit your head or catch a fever? Do you remember where you are?"

Daryl shook his head, brushing the man's hand off.

"Daryl, man," Murphy scoffed, "you're home."

Connor grabbed him by his hair, yanking his head back.

* * *

"Shit!" Daryl barked, the fingers in his hair twisting harshly. "Get the fuck off!"

Daryl was painfully ripped out of his dream and into the real world, his old sleeping bag pale in comparison to the lush bed in the dream. His brother's face was looming over him, broad and grinning. A chunk of his ear was gone from Connor's arrow, proof enough that he was back.

"Having some sweet dreams, Darylena?" Merle laughed, letting his hair go. "Christ on a crutch, you were babbling to yourself."

Daryl wiped at his mouth at sat up, glaring at his older brother, "Nice way to wake a fella up, asshat!"

"Had to get you on your feet," Merle tossed his crossbow into his lap. "Find that stupid mick of yours and go get us some fuckin' food."

Daryl glared at his brother's back as he left but once he was gone he rubbed at his sore head.

"What the fuck?" he looked around, finding himself in the same tent in the middle of the apocalypse. His crossbow was all too real and heavy in his lap, giving him a good rock to ground himself. Dirt smeared his skin and his clothes needed a wash, the smell of man filling the tent to the point where he could probably track his brother within a hundred feet.

Daryl pushed up to his feet and pushed aside the tent flap, spotting his fellow hunter outside his own tent with his quiver already strapped on and his hands covered in those leather gloves that minimized the rasp of the bow on his palms. He was lacing up his boots, wide-awake and ready to go. It was a stark contrast to the sleepy, concerned Connor in his dream that had gone as pliant as dough beneath his body. What a sweet sensation that was. The taste of mint in his mouth, the soap on his skin...fuck, what had he said out loud? What if Merle had heard him say Connor's name? Shit! His brother wasn't above giving him a proper beating, Walker-threat be damned.

Daryl pushed it aside, heading out into the light of day.

He didn't have time to linger on his dreams, there were hungry people to feed.

* * *

**AN: This will probably be a little mini-series through the story, Daryl's dream world. And FINALLY the filler/backstory/pre-series is over and the rest of the story will be straight up SERIES! Are you excited? Rick interacting with Murphy and Connor and Merle getting strapped to a building and the farm and all that!**

**So, Spoiler warning from here on out. Remember to check my profile and check out my other fics plus my Tumblr account. This story has a blog for it, actually**


	8. Season 1 - Episode 2: Guts

**I'm using Google translate for my Korean, so it only goes to kanji. I'm using the technical phonetic sound, just so you know. Translations will be at the bottom, unlike before with the Gaelic. I tried to tastefully put the meanings in there but it didn't really work.**

**WARNING: Language, racism, bad language, kiddies. Religious undertones, but that's kind of a late warning. No one be offended.**

* * *

_Eyes like the sky, powerful and open. Hordes of the undead, all snapping their jaws and clawing so desperately for a taste of flesh. The man with blue eyes brought strength but it was lost...taken, hidden. One man screamed in frustration, in rage, another man called desperately for help. Darkness, yet shadows, a sharp bite-_

The brothers woke up gulping down great gasps of air. A man's scream still echoed in their ears, a ring of fire burning along their hips.

"Shit" Connor clutched his side, the ache lingering longer than was usual for a nightmare.

"You too?" Murphy hissed, rubbing the faux-seared flesh to get the sting out.

"Yeah."

Murphy chewed his lower lip, hand raising to lay over his rosary, "Do you think it's another message? Think He's tryin' to tell us somethin'?"

"Aye" Connor sighed in relief as the prickling sensation receded from his side "I think it's a bit more of a warning. Like the dreams you had before we knew about the walkers."

"Yeah" Murphy slowly laid back down, body still aching "Felt a bit more ominous than usual. More real."

"I've seen that man in my dreams before" Connor admitted, using his spare shirt to clear the sweat from his brow "The one with blue eyes...was he in yours?"

"Yeah, but this is the first I've seen him" he tucked his hands behind his head "Thinks our heads are just fuckin' with us?"

"Maybe" Connor tilted his head back, staring up at the inky shadows along the tent "I can never see his face but I've seen him before, I know I have. He has this presence...if I ever met him I'd know him just by those eyes."

"It might be nothing" Murphy turned over on his stomach"I'm goin' back to sleep."

"Do that" Connor tugged on a muscle shirt "I'm going to take a bit of air."

"Take it all, if you want" Murphy yawned widely "Take that dream with ya, too. Twice in one night is too much for me."

Connor took up his bow and quiver, slinging them over his back like a natural. He unzipped the tent and slipped out into the cool night, shutting it behind him to give his brother some piece. Murphy rarely slept as it was he didn't need any help staying awake. He could still remember sitting in the windowsill of their little make-shift apartment, smoking and thinking while sleep eluded him.

Now, in the fresh air, he could admit he had felt more like an anxious man than an insomniac.

Connor strode with confidence across the compound, barely a soul stirring within the tents. He could hear Morales snoring, the rustle of air through the leaves, even Amy's soft whine every now and then. What a group of people they had, what a little civilization. He looked from tent to tent and felt proud, for in every dry piece of clothing and every scrap of food there was his touch. He knew every name and face, he knew most of their preferences, and he knew the inner-workings of the social circle. Amy and Glenn didn't talk by mutual agreement, Shane butted heads with Merle, Merle hated everyone, all those little things that made a village click. Most of them were nice enough, some more than others, but all were grateful for clean clothes and food.

Connor came upon the RV soon enough. The full moon, dyed a soft orange in the Georgia sky, gave light to the whole clearing. He started up the ladder to the top only to get an arrow to his forehead on the last rung. He tilted his head up and met none other than Daryl Dixon, blue eyes practically ethereal in the moonlight. He radiated pure power, muscles flexed tight as he hefted the crossbow back up and away from him.

"Jesus, Clover, you scared the hell out of me" Daryl offered his hand "Well, get up here if yer comin'."

Connor grabbed his hand and hoisted himself up to the top of the vehicle, walking with the hunter over to the lawn chairs set up in the middle of the roof. They plopped down in the chairs back to back, Connor's bow clutching in his hand to give him roof. He pulled an arrow out of his quiver and laid it along the wooden set, letting the weapon rest in his lap.

"What the hell you doin' walkin' around in just your shorts anyhow?" Daryl griped, propping his crossbow up against his chair.

"Got all me bits covered, don't I?" Connor chuckled lightly "Don't happen to have a smoke, do ya?"

"Shouldn't I be askin' you that?" Daryl slumped in his chair, gazing out at the tree line "Couple of smoke bugs, aren't ya?"

"True" Connor tapped his arrow lightly "Daryl...I need 'ta ask you somethin'. Somethin' weird."

Daryl tensed, suddenly aware of the heat of the other man across his neck and through the flimsy fabric of the chairs. He watched his hands ball into fists on his lap but he wasn't sure why. There was a sudden nervous tightness in his chest.

"Shoot" Daryl managed to grit out, now wishing he had swiped a pack of smokes from the brothers.

"Before all this...before the dead...I think I..." he scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more wildly "I couldn't sleep at all, Murph was having nightmares, I was anxious all the time. I thought it was just insomnia or some stupid shit like that, but I'm startin' to think it was somethin' else. Like I was...waitin' on the apocalypse."

"Now _that's_ crazy" Daryl scoffed good-naturedly "Trust me, no one saw this comin'."

"Daryl, I-" Connor bit his tongue, cutting himself off "Weirder things have happened. Maybe it was somethin' in the air or divine providence, I dunno. I just feel like Murph and I were preparing for this thing long before it happened."

"What do you mean?" the hunter asked.

"We came here to hunt and to..." _escape the heat in Boston_ he added silently "...camp. Thought it'd be a good vacation. Murph had never thrown a knife and I thought he ought to learn. I'd never shot a bow but once before."

Daryl's face pinched up, "Alright, I admit that's weird."

"Right?" Connor breathed, tilting his head until it bumped against the other man's.

"So what? You think it's..." Daryl flicked his fingers up toward the sky "_God_, or whatever?"

"Maybe, who knows?" Connor shrugged, enjoying the way the hunter didn't mind having their heads rubbing together. He looked up to the stars, clear as crystal and twice as mysterious now that the pollutant light of Atlanta was gone.

"Our Ma used to make us go to Sunday mass every week like clockwork" Connor began softly "When we were younger we'd bitch and moan about it, but one year we stopped. Couldn't have been more than eight years old. It was right on our birthday, we woke up and our Ma had wrapped up two presents for us. She never did that, money was too tight and all, so we were surprised. We ripped them open and low and behold it's a pair of matching rosaries."

Connor tugged at his necklace, the beads biting into his skin, "That's when we realized what it was all about, what Ma had dragged us there for. Deliverance, acceptance, love...maybe a bit too young, but the point was driven home. We never complained again. It's been branded into us ever since."

"I've seen you up early on some days" Daryl admitted "So that's what you're doing, holy man? Prayin'?"

"Yeah" the blonde grinned brightly, though no one could see it "I told you: Like clockwork."

"Dad wasn't real big on religion" Daryl dropped his hand over the arm rest, eyes resting on the moon "Thought Jesus was at the bottom of a bottle or somethin'. He was a total asshole, drank more than an Irishman on Saint Paddy's day."

He clunked his head against the other, "No offense."

"None taken" Connor laid his bow and arrow down, reclining more completely "Your dad was a real piece of work."

Daryl blew out a huge breath, "You don't know the half of it."

The blonde's brow knitted, "He didn't lay a hand on you, did he?"

Daryl's silence told him all he needed to.

Connor's heart broke a little more in his chest, "Daryl..."

"Ain't nothin' " the redneck grunted "Let's just say God wasn't around when I was growin' up."

The air grew heavy with silence after that. A breeze picked up and ruffled their hair, cooling their cheeks. A rough snore came from the Dixon's tent, they both scowled. Connor's mind filled with images of hulking, filthy men and cement floors. Of barbed wire, of tears, of screaming and pleading. Of Atlanta and walkers, of his brother and his own helplessness. Tears blurred up the moon and sky.

"God's always been there with me" his lashes fluttered wetly against his cheek "At least, that's what Murph thinks. He says every prayer I utter is answered...every step I take is blessed. He thinks I can save the world."

"That's what it's all about" Daryl pointed out "Big brother _is_ God in the eyes of his sibling."

"I'm barely older, just a few minutes or so" Connor muttered, wiping at his cheeks harshly "You keep surprising me."

Daryl winced, "What? You thought I was just some dumb hilljack, right?"

"No-"

"It's fine, it's what the others think too" Daryl grit his teeth, thinking of how the group looked at him and his brother "Mountain men, too dumb to do anything but spit and shoot."

"You're not that" the Irishman countered vehemently "Anyone with eyes can see that."

Connor dropped his damp hand to hang over the arm rest, jolting when he felt solid human warmth. _Daryl._ The backs of their hands brushed intimately, something like sparks crackling along the contact. Lightning shot up his arm, sending a pulse of heat through his lap.

"My brother's wrong" Connor's chest was tight, whether he was close to sobbing or screaming he wasn't sure "Murph's faith is a hundred times stronger than mine. The things he's been through...it hasn't been easy for him, trust me. And he still believes."

Daryl couldn't believe how dark the other man sounded. Connor was usually level headed, a realist, his tone pretty neutral. But this was a new, deeper level he'd never seen to the Irishman. His hand was cool against his own.

Merle's snore in the distance cut off to a cough, changing into a snort like he'd woken himself up. The two ripped their hands away and tucked them into their laps, acting like two teenagers when a parent walked in. They sat there, frozen, seconds creeping on like minutes. After a while the older Dixon started to snore again, back off to sleep. Without a word about it, their hands dropped back down over the arms and touched once more. A brush of skin, but still there.

Daryl gave a big sigh, calming his heart. Connor's chest was rattling.

"Don't give him too much credit" Daryl pressed his hand harder to the other's "You're like his strength or whatever."

"He's stronger than me. He thinks this will pass, that it's a plague" Connor choked on a sob for a moment, he sniffed sharply and swallowed it down "But he's wrong. God's not here, with me or otherwise."

Daryl's hand shifted and the ends of their fingers touched, knuckles lacing in a gesture that surprised and thrilled them both.

"Don't say that" Daryl breathed "Ain't He always listening?"

"Yeah" Connor sighed, eyes falling shut "That's the story."

The night went on. The two hunters, the providers, sat there with just their thoughts and the moon to keep them company. They didn't move their hands and they didn't say another word about God or fate. It was a rare tranquility and there was no reason to ruin it with thoughts of the past.

Or the future.

**xXxXxXx**

"Jesus" Murphy cursed beneath his breath as he shucked through the woods, head down "Can't take a piss without the third degree."

At least three people had asked him where he was going on the way out of camp. He needed a minute to smoke and relieve himself and he wanted to do it a bit away from the others, what was wrong with that? Truth be told he mostly wanted to get away from Connor and Daryl making doe eyes at each other from across camp. They were getting sickening. It was almost becoming a reason to have Merle around, at least then the two of them got more subtle about it. That older Dixon was not one to be messed with. Just the other day he saw him grab Daryl by his neck and throw him into a tree just for mouthing off to him.

And Daryl had just taken it. Not a whimper, not a yelp, not a sound.

What a mate his brother had picked out for himself.

Soft groans met his ears along with a scraping sound, like leaves against the forest floor. His mind went to w_alkers_ and slowed to a crawl toward the source of the noise. It wasn't far up ahead and he made as little noise as possible, getting close enough to catch a hint of movement. He crept up behind a wide tree and shouldered against it, hand creeping down to his belt. He pulled out a knife without a sound and held it outright, readying himself to strike at any moment before he dared to look. It was hesitant and slow but he saw the small clearing for what it was.

The first thing he saw was Shane's broad, tan back and bare legs. Murphy took a moment to admire the hard muscles and flexing, full ass before he realized what he was seeing. Shane was having sex with...? What the fuck!? He saw the long, pale line of Lori's body beneath the broad man's own. She was keening and arching up into him like it was the best thing she'd ever had.

Murphy blanched when he realized what was going on.

Shane's head tossed back, large hazel eyes falling upon the Irishman instantly.

"Shit!" Murphy hissed, turning on his heels to high-tail it out of there. He heard Shane cursing and rustling on some clothes behind him and ran faster. He was fast but his feet got tangled in the undergrowth and Shane was apparently more determined to catch him than he was to get away. Strong hands seized him by the back of his shirt and tossed him into the nearest tree like a bag of flour. He coughed out his breath and tried to push off it but the man was on him in seconds. Shane pinned him to the tree and got inches from his face, naked except for his dark boxers. Murphy pulled his knife and tucked it under the man's chin, glaring back just as hard.

"I know you saw that" Shane growled, ignoring the knife like it wasn't even there "You better keep your mouth shut, Murphy, or I swear to God I'm going to beat your ass into the ground."

Murphy's defiant look was enough to rile the older man up. He pinned him tighter up, pressed up against him until their hips met and his knees dug painfully into the Irishman's thighs. Murphy faltered as the knife dug deeper into the man's neck, a wild look in his eyes that scared him. Something hard pressed against his beltline, he looked down briefly to see that Shane was still hard from his session with Lori. It sent a little thrill through his stomach, a disgusting mix of arousal and pure unadulterated fear pooling in his gut.

"Now why would I go and spread something like that?" Murphy managed to grit out "It's no one's business, right? Certainly not mine."

Shane searched his face and seemed to find what he was looking for because he released the slighter man. Murphy dropped his knife but didn't put it away. He had the decency to look ashamed, trying to make it up to him by smoothing out his shirt. He patted his shoulder and took a step back, giving him a good view of the entire crazy package.

"Sorry" Shane muttered "You just..."

"Walked in on you gettin' off, what man wouldn't be pissed?" Murphy rubbed at his neck "You kinda got a thing for grabbing me, huh?"

Shane huffed out a laugh, "Yeah, I'm tryin' to work on that."

"Good" Murphy's eyes raked down the man's form, blatantly admiring his body "You should get back. Tell her I won't say anythin'."

The older man frowned, "Not even to your brother?"

Murphy nodded reluctantly, almost afraid to lie to this man.

"So...yeah" Shane tried to smile but the bulge in his shorts gave the air some tension "Uh, thanks."

"Don't mention it, man" threw his chin toward the forest "Shouldn't you...?"

"Yeah" Shane took another step back "Later."

Murphy watched him go a bit too closely, "Yeah, later."

**xXx**

"Here you go, lad" Connor let Carl take the plate of food himself "Think that'll fill you up?"

"That's so much" the boy beamed happily "Thanks, Connor."

"No problem" he ruffled his dark hair, moving past him to hand Lori her own "You two eat up while it's still hot."

"Thanks" her smile was genuine and it inspired his own. Connor left them to it and ended up meeting his twin halfway. Murphy grinned at him and linked their arms like school boys, matching him step-for-step through the camp. It was a confusingly merry behavior for his brother.

"Did you give Sophia and her parents their food?" Connor inquired.

"Aye" Murphy looked back toward said tent briefly, flashing the cigarette tucked behind his ear "That Ed's quite a bastard, isn't he? Bit better since you straightened him out."

Connor grunted in agreement, flexing his hand into a fist as remembered how he'd gotten into a fight with the man just a week into staying at the camp, "So what's up?"

"I just wanted to ask you about something" he replied innocently.

Connor raised an eyebrow at him curiously, "Is this anything to do with Lori and Shane sleepin' together?"

"How did you know?" Murphy snapped.

"Are you intentionally dense?" the blonde countered "It's obvious, isn't it? Everyone knows but no one says anything."

Murphy narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Daryl told you."

"No, I have eyes" Connor flicked his brother in the head for his flat tone, getting a yelp.

"Fine!" Murphy swiped him off "That's not even what I wanted to ask you."

"What is it then?" the blonde insisted.

"I just wanted to know" Murphy looked around again, making sure they wer eout of ear shot "Have you seen Shane's body?"

"Stop!" Connor held up his hands, pulling away from his twin "_Stop_, right there."

Murphy stopped with him, frowning.

"Are you...? Are you into guys now?" Connor was hesitant and his brother's incredulous look didn't help "I-I mean, I know you have before – like, _before_ before. And I'm not judgin' you-"

"Jesus, Con" Murphy griped, pulling his cigarette out from behind his ear and the lighter from his pocket "I just said the guy's nice lookin'. What are you worrying about?"

Connor sighed roughly, he could see that rebellious streak in his brother's eyes, "I just don't want you to start-"

"What?" Murphy cut him off, lighting up "Sleeping around?"

Connor flinched, the memory of those thugs too fresh for him to take it as a joke. He plucked the cigarette out of his twin's mouth and tossed it aside, getting close enough to grab the back of his neck. Murphy swallowed thickly but allowed him, refusing even to flinch as his brother's fingertips dug into his skin.

"You've been through somethin', Murph, somethin' bad" Connor stated solemnly "We both have. And we ran away from it as fast as we could."

Murphy looked around nervously, "I don't want to talk about this."

Heaven forbid someone like Glenn or Amy hear this.

"_That's_ the problem, we haven't talked about it" Connor rubbed his thumb along his brother's matching Madonna tattoo, getting him to relax "I don't want you jumping in bed with anyone too soon."

"I'm just talking about how someone looks!" Murphy exclaimed though he didn't shrug his twin off "Fuckin' hell, Conn."

"As long as it stays that way" Connor scolded him "And if you do fuck someone it better not be Shane. He's our leader right now and I don't want you feeding his power trip. I see the way he looks at you and I know you like to flirt. You encourage him."

Murphy swallowed down a hundred things he wanted to say. Instead he nodded and smiled even when he wanted to throttle his calm, sweet twin. Things like _Oh you can get laid and I can't?_ and _What about Daryl?_ Nasty things like _He's all you can think about_ threatened to slip from his lips but they didn't. He fought them down to the pit of stomach and kept them there. Connor didn't need to know about his filthy secrets and awful jealousy.

It was a long fight he didn't want to have, one that he was sure would end with him losing his brother.

"I'm not going to sleep with Shane" Murphy recited like a school boy.

"Or Amy" Connor thought about who his brother talked to the most "Or Glenn! Not Glenn. He's a sweet boy, Murph, and I won't have you messing with him."

"Or Amy _or_ Glenn" Murphy repeated dully.

Connor huffed in satisfaction, "You know I'm only looking out for you."

"And you want to be ready to pick up and leave" Murphy added, eyeing his brother for a reaction.

Connor frowned but only for a second, "Right."

Murphy laughed in his brother's face, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble back. He didn't believe him, not for a single moment. Connor was too caught up on Dixon. If they had to make a choice right now his brother would chose to stay, if only for one touch of that redneck's rough hands. Daryl seemed like a great guy, he really did, but the bastard seemed to have woven a spell over his practical brother. Whenever he caught Connor staring off into the distance he knew who was on his mind.

"You're a terrible liar, brother" Murphy tossed over his shoulder, refusing to look back.

Connor couldn't disagree

**xXxXxXx**

Connor was perched on a tree stump set a bit off the edge of camp, one hand clutching Murphy's smooth boot knife while the other held a mutilated fish. A deep frown set into his handsome face, covered from fingertip to elbows in blood. Dale had caught a few fish and Connor had been put in charge of skinning them. No matter his protests, they'd shoved them into his hands and sent him on his way. He'd nearly ruined the one he held and he had to claim it as done or else destroy it. He tossed it into the bowl with a scowl, picking a fresh one out of the bucket.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, he realized too late someone was behind him. One sniff and he knew who it was.

"Don't you put your hands on me, Dixon" Connor ordered, fingers clenching tighter on the knife "I'm only warnin' you once."

"Your warnin' me, huh?" Merle couldn't be more than a foot behind him, towering like a guard "You know what I can do to you, boy?"

Connor thought of Daryl and his love for his brother. He kept his mouth shut.

"There's a good boy" a meaty hand clapped his shoulder "Micks are only good for pouring the beer and tellin' a story."

The redneck's dirty fingernails bit into his skin through the shirt, "And I hear you tell a real good story, leprechaun."

"Sure I do" Connor laughed, a strained and unpleasant sound "Let me tell you about the one where the hilljack took a knife to the jewels."

"I got a better one" the man's other hand came down, catching his right shoulder now and digging into the muscle painfully "How about the one where the Irishman gets a set of particular scars?"

Connor tensed, fish dropping into the grass, "What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"I'm talkin' about your other half" Merle's voice was too honey-soaked to be anything more than disgusting "He's got these nice scars around his wrists, about _here_."

Merle's hand shot out and grabbed his own, grinding the bones so hard he dropped his knife. He moved to stand up but the man's hold was unyielding. The redneck twisted his hand around until the dark red rings from the handcuffs back in Boston shown, a testament to his commitment to keeping his brother alive and safe.

"Yours are all smooth" Merle wondered, digging his thumb into the tendons to make the whole limb go numb "His looks like a fucking turned rough, some kinky shit only Irish dogs get into when they're in heat. Your little bro looks like a real bronco rider. Someone you know do it?"

"How about you fuckin' mind your own business, you piece of shit?" Connor barked, forcing himself to stand only to get his arm twisted up his back. He could break the hold, he knew he could, but Merle had a handgun on his waist and he knew the redneck would deliver a suckerpunch before he could duck. The Dixon would shoot him dead, there was no doubt. He couldn't see the man's face but he was pressed right up against him, just off to the side enough where he didn't have a clear shot to the nose or the balls. Smart fucker.

"Did you do it?" Merle asked in a low, scandalous whisper.

Connor choked, sneering, "You're one sick fuck."

"Come on, blondie, you can tell me" the redneck cooed "Did you fuck 'im too rough? Did big brother not take care of him the right way?"

He tried to wrench away in disgust, the other man yanked him back until his breath bathed his ear.

"I could take care of 'im real nice for ya" Merle drawled, a serious note in his voice putting ice in the Irishman's blood. Connor ripped his arm away, turning to confront the man only to be met with the side of a fist. It stopped right before his nose, the grimy man's knuckles almost touching him. They were both frozen like rabbits at the sound of footsteps.

Daryl set up on them, looking concerned, "What the hell are you two doin' out here?"

Merle pulled back, shrugging like he hadn't just been about to knock Connor on his back. The blonde stepped away, hands balled into fists at his side. Without a word the older Dixon walked off, giving neither of them a second glance. The moment he'd turned the corner Daryl rushed up to him, looking him over for any sign of harm.

"You okay?" he inquired lowly, eyes darting to the fish and blade in the grass.

"Course I'm okay" Connor tried to shrug it off, leaning down to grab the knife. Daryl was quicker than his brother, snatching up the blonde's hand and bringing it closer to him. There was no alarm on his face, no lines of worry or stress, but the very tips of his fingers were trembling like they were chilled.

"What the hell did he do to you?" Daryl growled, running his thumb over the side of the man's hand. Connor could only shake his head, a weak smile curving his lips. He could hear himself muttering something about the fish and Merle being an asshole but he didn't really feel it. All he could think of was Daryl's thumb on his hand and the scars on his wrists.

The scars on Murphy's wrists.

**xXxXxXx**

The moment everyone heard Glenn raising his voice they started closing in, curious to see what had riled up the usually mild tempered Korean. Murphy was first on the scene, finding the younger man yelling at Shane of all people.

"You can't make me!" Glenn protested vehemently.

"Glenn" Shane's tone was forcibly calm "Taking a group means getting more supplies, more eyes and hands can only help."

"Yeah right" Glenn wrinkled up his nose as if he were disgusted at the thought "It's always been me alone, Shane, _always._ I do fine by myself. Taking more than one person with me? It's practically suicide! More help just means more chance for me to get stuck somewhere and mauled."

"We're not going to let that happen" Shane held his hand out as if trying to calm a spooked animal. From the way the boy was shifting from one foot to the other it was an appropriate gesture. Glenn looked like he was going to make a run for it any second.

"I can get plenty by myself" Glenn assured him, still twitchy at the idea of getting burdened with a whole group of people who weren't half as fast as himself.

"You have to understand" Shane lowered his voice, eyes dancing to all the people starting to gather round "We're running real low on food."

Connor and Daryl met eyes across the clearing, the redneck nodded tightly.

"Daryl and I can head deeper into the woods" Connor offered "Get something more substantial."

"Yeah, might be able to track a deer or two" Daryl saw his brother emerging from their tent and making a beeline for the gathering "Shit."

"Sounds good" Shane agreed, pointing "You two bring back whatever you can from out there."

"I'm going with 'em" Merle drawled, saddling up beside his brother.

"And what the fuck are you going to use?" Connor snarked "Your loud ass gun?"

Merle's glare threatened to burn him away, "I don't trust no mick out there with my brother alone."

"Come on, Merle" Daryl huffed "It can't be more than two days."

"Shane's the leader" Murphy pointed out "He gets the last say."

Merle barked out a laugh, "Says who?"

Connor couldn't believe what he was hearing, "What? You want to go off contribution?"

"Maybe I fuckin' do" Merle threatened.

"Just shut yer fuckin' gob before I take off your other ear" Connor shot back , gesturing harshly. The redneck bristled at that, puffing up like an offended cat. Merle started at them and even before Shane could react the twins had pulled out their pistols, pointing them at his thick head.

"Make your move, _fucker_" Murphy spat.

Merle stopped abruptly, reaching behind him for his gun only to grasp empty air. His weapon was still in his tent and one glance behind him told him Daryl wasn't going to back him up. He slapped on a wide grin and waved them off, a predatory glimmer in his inky eyes.

"Whatever man, it's cool" his laugh sounded like gravel to their ears, as insincere as they'd ever heard "No need to bring the heat out. Couple of trigger happy micks, aren't ya?"

The twins said nothing but did indeed lower their eyes, matching blue eyes falling to Shane. They didn't like it but the man was their leader. They were firm believers in hierarchy, though usually it started with them in their old job as Saints. Back then they knew where they stood, high at the top with judging glares, but now they had a new slot to fill. Enforcers, holy men, providers. They'd decided when they'd joined to listen to Shane despite their doubts of his character and his heart.

"I volunteer" Murphy told him "I can go into town with Glenn and whoever else. I can handle myself, I've proven that."

Shane pursed his lips and nodded at him. He thought it over, weighing the pros and cons, and could only think of a few people he trusted not to get themselves killed. Daryl snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, thinking along the lines of _don't pull a muscle_ at Shane's serious expression.

"Andrea" he started "T-Dog, Glenn, Jacqui, and Murphy. If any of you don't want to go, speak up now. This is volunteer only."

Amy started to put up a token protest but Andrea shushed her, bringing her into a hug. She nodded at Shane over her sister's shoulder, agreeing. Jacqui and T-Dog agreed as well. Glenn slumped in relief, at least he'd have Murphy to back him up properly.

Merle was still glaring daggers. Shane glanced at Murphy and weighed the options, he really didn't want the rough redneck in camp without Daryl to buffer him.

"And Merle" Shane added "I'd feel better if you had a good shot and a strong arm with ya."

Though he wasn't going, Connor looked the most displeased.

**xXx**

_The Next Morning_

Murphy counted out his ammo carefully and loaded his pistols, slipping them into their holsters with the utmost care. His knives were firmly latched to his hips and ready to go, his spare tucked into his boot. He stepped out of the tent and into the early morning light, taking a deep breath to clear his head. It was brisk and clear, just what he needed to start the day. He had a sudden craving for coffee but shoved it aside. He probably wouldn't taste that again for a good long while, at least until the world righted itself.

Murphy wasn't a dozen steps away from the tent before his brother caught up with him, pulling him off to the side under a tree. On instinct he smiled, glad to see his twin, but Connor's handsome face was pulled into a frown. He could already hear the lecture in his head, his twin had that motherly crease to his brow.

"I don't want you to go" Connor stated bluntly, throwing it out there.

"We've been through this" Murphy sighed "It's one day's trip."

"That's not the point" Connor snapped, eyes even darker in the shade of the tree's limbs "A group of people is dangerous, it's almost not worth it."

Murphy rolled his eyes but his brother grabbed him by the chin and made him stop, "I'm serious, Murph. I don't trust Merle around you, not after last time. He's a disgusting pig."

_I could take care of 'im real nice for ya._

Bile rose in Connor's throat, he refused to let the gruff redneck get into his head. He let go of his brother's face.

"Not to mention, if there's a whole group of people lookin' at you, you can't talk the walkers down" Connor reminded him "You'll be in real danger. Your smell might not be enough."

Murphy nodded along obediently, assuring his brother he was listening. Like he couldn't see all those looks Merle gave him? Like he didn't actively avoid being alone with the redneck? He knew the danger of Atlanta _and_ the danger of Merle Dixon. He gave a little sound of surprise when his brother pulled him into a hug. He couldn't help but return the embrace, eyes fluttering shut at the solid touch.

"Maybe...maybe it was a bad idea to come here" Connor confessed hesitantly into his ear "We take too many risks now. You keep running off without me, ya know?"

Murphy smiled as his chest flooded with warmth. It was nice to have his brother worry about him so blatantly. Though he was sure Connor still worried about him in that constant, obsessive way he loved, it felt good to see it.

"I'm going, Conn" he informed him.

"I know, you stubborn ass" Connor pulled away with a slightly strained smile, trying desperately to be strong "Watch Glenn's back, he's fast but he's not quite up to par yet. He's a good kid, he needs an eye on him too."

Murphy nodded, searching his brother's face, "You still don't want me to go."

"Honestly, Murph?" his smile dropped "I never want you to leave my side."

Murphy knew exactly what caused that edge, that sadness. He stepped closer and smoothed his brother's shirt, a habit he only brought out when he was trying to calm the blonde down. Connor actually relaxed a little under his hands, letting him bother with the material while he tried to wipe those horrible memories away.

"It's not going to be like that time" Murphy swore, they both knew just what he was referring to "That's not going to happen again just because you're not there."

"Aye? And what if it does?" Connor snatched his brother's hand up to get a better look at the jagged scars around his wrist, spotting even the fainter ones along his fingers and staining his palm "What if someone takes you? What if I lose you? I don't want to be lost in the woods somewhere trying to find food while you're getting yourself killed."

The darker twin shrugged, "Maybe you can come with me, then?"

Connor hesitated, a frown marring his face as he rubbed his thumb over a particularly deep scar. The blatant reluctance lit a fire in his twin's belly. He ripped his hand away and his brother's shame surfaced, eyes to the ground.

Murphy scowled, "But Daryl needs you."

Connor picked up his gaze to find the mentioned redneck, the man was over by the truck giving his brother his ammo. He watched Merle ruffle the younger Dixon's hair, grinning and ordering him to get a fat deer or he'd beat his ass.

"He's the only one who can hunt" Connor's voice was no more than a whisper, like he was terrified to be overhead "The ammo's running low and the gun's are too noisy. Maybe some of the walkers will leave _us_ alone but these people are practically fodder."

Murphy's jaw clenched so hard he swore he snapped a tooth, "I'm tryin' to be supportive and all, but I'm startin' to see a pattern when it involves him. What happened to _us_ first?"

"Jesus, don't start this again" Connor begged "Now is not the time."

"Really? Cause I think now is the perfect time" Murphy shoved him away "We can have a nice little chat before you go frolicking in the woods with Prince Charming over there and fuck your brains out."

"You watch your mouth!" Connor snapped, pointing at him accusingly "Daryl and I have nothin' going on and you know it. If Merle hears you talkin' like that we're all fucked."

"I didn't want to believe it, but I think you're actually choosing him over me."

"What are we? Five?" Connor scoffed "There's no choosing. It's you and me. But Daryl needs someone on his side too."

"You're putting your dick before your blood" Murphy hissed, getting in his face "I hope Da doesn't find us while you're tryin' to impress that guy. He'd be ashamed of the way you're following him around."

Connor suppressed the spite welling up within him, pushing it down where all the other repressed feelings went. He swore he'd have to cut that part of his gut out one day with all the ulcers it was probably developing.

"Just go" Connor spat "If you're going to go, just _go_ already."

"Fuck you and your hillbilly" Murphy pushed past him, scowling deeply. He nearly ran into Glenn, the boy had been standing nearby gawking. He grabbed him by the collar and dragged him towards the truck, barking at him to shut his jaw before flies flew in.

"Dude, what was-"

"Shut up!"

**xXx**

The old truck rumbled and creaked like it was going to fall apart. Murphy was slouched deep into his seat, puffing hard on a cigarette in an effort to calm himself. Glenn drove as best he could, the others were piled haphazardly in the back. Murphy could feel Merle's hot glare through the back window, he ducked down further. The redneck seemed to be holding his grudge well.

Glenn's throat was burning from the Irishman's chain smoking, "You want to talk about it?"

"Fuckin' Daryl and Connor" Murphy hissed, angry smoke rings branding the air.

"Did you guys fight?" Glenn inquired, though he had heard the best of it.

"Sorta" he half-lied, plucking the cigarette from his mouth "God put brothers on this Earth to drive us crazy, I swear."

Glenn bobbed his head in a nod, "I guess. I only have a few sisters."

"That's too bad" Murphy tried to smile in what he hoped was a light-hearted manner "I would've liked two of you."

Glenn blushed, eyes glued to the road, "I couldn't imagine having a twin."

"It's certainly an experience" the Irishman's voice was a strange mix of fondness and bitterness.

"Do you guys have your own language?"

"No need" Murphy stubbed the butt out against the door "One look is all it takes. He knows what I need before I do. He can tell what I'm thinking. He's a little harder to read but I manage."

"You're lucky to have that" Glenn managed to give him a long, hard look without wandering off the road "You two shouldn't fight like this."

"I know" Murphy sulked, fingers already itching for another cigarette "I'm just afraid..."

"Afraid of what?" Glenn needled, hoping to get him to open up.

Murphy sighed like he had the weight of the world on his chest, "I'm afraid things are going to change."

"Didn't you get the memo, dude?" Glenn laughed weakly "Everything's changed."

**xXx**

Daryl wiped the sweat from his brow, "I know it's stupid, but we should split up."

Connor lowered his water bottle, chin wet, "What?"

"Deer's gettin' closer" Daryl averted his eyes "Two of us, more noise to spook it. No use wastin' both our time tryin' to get somethin' and end up with nothin'. Why don't you head out that way and I'll track the deer?"

Connor scoffed good-naturedly, "I muck up one trail and suddenly I'm a leper."

Daryl cracked a smile. On their last hunting trip, Connor had ended up falling and had thrashed around enough to break the trail of the deer they'd been looking for. It had thrown off the whole hunt and they'd ended up coming back with nothin' bigger than a squirrel. He'd been teasing the Irishman about it ever since.

"Well, I ain't never seen no Clover with two left feet" Daryl needled, getting the other to laugh.

"I'm starting to think that's more of an endearment than an insult" Connor chuckled.

Daryl could feel his cheeks getting hot. He was suddenly glad he hadn't washed his face in a while, the dirt hit the blush well. _Women_ blushed over accents and winning smiles. Men. Didn't. Blush.

"You got enough water?" Daryl asked awkwardly, stilted enough to make his discomfort obvious. Connor looked to him curiously, hands busy tying the bottle back to the small rope on his belt.

"You alright, there?"

"M' fine" Daryl gestured into the distance "You head that way about a mile and then circle back. I may have the deer by then but keep quiet."

"Aye, sir" Connor gave him a mocking salute "Be careful, yeah?"

Daryl nodded, "You too."

They reluctantly parted ways, looking back now and then until they lost sight of each other.

Daryl slipped behind the biggest tree he could find, waiting with his back to the bark until he couldn't hear his companion's foot steps anymore. He waited an extra minute just to make sure. The forest grew quieter, his sharp ears aware of every flutter and chirp around him. After a while he deemed it safebee enough. He rested his crossbow against the tree, right by his knee just in case.

"Christ" Daryl muttered, thumbing open the button of his jeans. He'd only wanted to get the Irishman moving; he hadn't expected to get an eyefull of plump, tan ass and hard thighs. Connor had turned as soon as he'd heard the noise of the tent flap. Fuck, no he hadn't. Daryl wished he had turned. The bastard had moved just his torso, looking _just_ over his shoulder, giving him the hottest silhouette he'd ever seen. Strong jaw, lean shoulders, and the barest glimpse of hip and groin. The curls between his legs matched the golden spikes on his head.

_That_ should not have made him so hot.

Daryl shoved his pants and boxers down just enough to expose his hardening cock. This was a stupid idea but he hadn't gotten off in days. Merle had been hanging around him more often, sniffing about like he could actually see his little brother's unholy thoughts. And what with earlier he was pretty sure he was due a minute or two alone. He grasped himself and stifled a gasp because _God damn_ that felt good. The first few pumps were hesitant as his mind took it's time settling down, mentally flipping through every glossy mag and hot piece of tail he'd ever seen. The back of his eyelids were soon filled with thick auburn locks and pale curves, soft breasts that just slid through your hand. An hourglass figure in his lap, high-pitched moans in his ear, slick warmth around his cock. He'd only had full-on sex a handful of times in his life, one of those with a man, but he'd watched plenty of porn and had a good imagination.

Daryl tilted his head back, warm sunlight falling over his face. Without warning he remembered the day he'd met Connor, squinting up at a hilltop with nothing but an outline to go by. The glare of the sun had almost looked like wings behind him, golden hair catching every drop of light to give him a halo. He had looked so angelic that day, so righteous. Another memory slipped in, one much more real and solid than poorly lit videos or half-formed fantasies. His dream from a few days ago, the one he'd been ripped from. A sleep warm Connor across his back, kissing his neck, touching his bare chest with all it's scars and ugliness like _he_ was the most beautiful thing in the world. It had felt so _real_, almost terrifyingly so. He could still remember how the man had let him roll him over, how he'd offered his mouth for whatever he'd wanted. It had been all he'd wanted since he'd met him.

"Fuck" Daryl murmured, his cock throbbing and _damn_ interested in thoughts of Connor. The too-female images faded away to be replaced with scarred, tan flesh and a blinding smile. High-pitched moans became deeper, off-pitch and more needy. Everything he'd always wanted and had already seen came to the forefront of his mind, his mind dumping out everything from old porn to walkers and refilling it with _Connor_.

Merle wasn't here, no one was here. There was no judgment, no restrictions, only the chase for pleasure.

Connor would drop to his knees for him right here, looking up at him from beneath those gold-spun lashes like a virgin. He'd be hard too, too turned on to care if someone would see them out here in the woods. He'd offer his mouth, his ass, _anything_ just to get off. And Daryl would be kind. He'd fist those blonde spikes and feed the Irishman his cock. Connor would moan like it was the best thing he'd ever had, choking on the size but allowing him as much as he wanted. It would be so hot, it'd been years since he'd been blown. The other man would take it like a champ, letting him fuck his throat while his own cock would be neglected and throbbing between his legs.

Daryl imagined looking down and seeing those blue jewels Connor called eyes half-lidded and teary, a blissed-out expression on his face just from getting a taste of him.

In his mind, Connor pulled off him. The blonde spread out in the undergrowth, leaves and moss clinging to every inch of him like he was made to be there. He'd stretch and show off the lines of his stomach, the swell of his chest, even the deep ridges of his hip bones. He'd give Daryl a real show, calloused fingers creeping down his own body until he'd touch himself

The fake Connor gave a little moan as he stroked himself, eyes fluttering shut, "_Daryl..."_

Daryl could feel his groin tightening up, the tell-tale warmth flooded down his chest and through his stomach like water.

Connor's thighs parted, revealing all of himself up for the Dixon's hungry gaze, "_Please, I need you."_

_Anything_, he promised, _anything you want_.

"_It hurts"_ Connor groaned, sounding like pure sex as he writhed on the forest floor "_Fix it, Daryl...I know you can."_

Daryl moaned out loud, braced so hard on the tree he could feel the pinpricks in his back.

"_Please"_ he begged shamelessly, hand slipping down between his thighs. He bent his knee further, eager fingers drifting down until they pressed against his entrance. Daryl swallowed thickly, heart beating up into his throat. Connor moaned wantonly, head falling back into the foliage to highlight the golden line of his throat. His fingers started to slip inside the tightly furled bud, rocking into his own touch in hopes of getting satisfaction.

"_Daryl!"_ he cried desperately, only wanting to be filled.

Daryl chomped down on his lower lip to keep his cry of completion quiet, spilling over his own fist with abandon. His hips arched up as if trying to bury himself in the tight body of his fantasy, muscles quivering beneath the filthy rags of his clothes. He rode the wave as long as he could, coming down with a soft whine he'd never admit to. He released his lip when it started to hurt, eyes blinking open to take in the surroundings he'd tried so hard to disperse. He was still safe. Numb with pleasure, but safe.

Daryl went through the motions of wiping himself off with his spare handkerchief, tucking himself back into his underwear with the rough care of someone who was ashamed of themselves. Weren't women always going on about wanting to be treated like people not toys or possessions? That fantasy right there, the one he'd just come so hard to, the one making his head spin, was no better than that. Objectifying his friend like he was some sex slave, some deviant _thing_ that was made for his pleasure. Sure it was just a fantasy but it had revved him up, made him cum like he hadn't since his first time. Connor would never be that, he could never want those things. In that dream, in this fantasy, he acted like Daryl was all he could ever want. Like he was the air he breathed or God Himself.

Like he loved him.

Daryl spat and picked back up his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder harder than necessary so the metal edge dug into his shoulder blade. It was enough to make him hiss and he deserved it. Who could love a filthy, feral redneck? Connor may not be refined and fancy-like, but he knew his shit. Connor used to go to Church, he had a twin who loved him unconditionally, he had friends, a caring father, a real _life._

Daryl had just been kind of hanging out, waiting for his life to start.

Who could love someone who was only useful after the world had gone to hell?

**xXx**

Glenn and Murphy were stationed on the roof to be on the look-out for the person who had fired the shots. The others were running around in the department store, gathering up as much supplies as possible before the walkers swarmed too thickly. Andrea was already starting to break and it didn't look promising. They shared a pair of binoculars, passing it back and forth to view the street. The walkers were chasing someone, a man in a cowboy hat on a horse. At first they'd been sure they were hallucinating together but no matter how hard they rubbed their eyes he was still there. The scene that unfolded was horrific, the way the walkers swarmed the horse was nothing less than gut-wrenching. The man disappeared and they were sure he was a goner, but then the walkers tried to tear open the tank and they knew he was inside.

"What do we do?" Glenn scanned the street "There's so many..."

"Fuckin' dumbass" Murphy muttered around his thumbnail, unsure what to do with himself "We have to save him."

There were too many for him too shoot, _way_ too many. It was like a sea down there. They were driven ravenous by the stench of horse blood and promised human flesh, too riled up for him to even try to talk down. Maybe at a high point with a calm swarm of the dead and his brother at his side he could talk them off, get them to back up, even for a minute. But this howling mass? No way. They'd rip him apart.

"He's just a man, he probably didn't know" the Irishman kept whispering to himself "He doesn't deserve this."

Glenn dropped the binoculars, letting them dangle around his neck. He raked both his hands through his hair, making the raven mop stick up in every direction. The word _fuck_ spilled from his lips, panic causing his chest to heave like he'd just run a mile.

"S-Shouldn't we worry about ourselves?" Glenn grasped at straws, biting his lip harder enough to turn it a cherry red "That's just _one_ guy, you know? And we're...we're..."

"He's just a man" Murphy gripped the side of the building, grit biting into his palms "He's just a man, right?"

"Uh-huh" Glenn wheezed.

"Like you and me" Murphy grabbed the radio and shoved it into the Korean's hands "He's trapped like you or I would be. He needs some divine guidance, don't you think?"

Glenn looked down at the radio, knuckles whitening around the edges.

Murphy wet his lips nervously, glancing back down at the surrounded tank, "Ever played God?"

"Never too early to try" Glenn flipped the radio on "I'm going to have to go down there and lead him into the building."

Murphy clamped his hand down on his shoulder, giving him a good shake, "I'll back you up."

**xXx**

Glenn led the Sheriff up the ladder and across the buildings, answering his insistent questions the whole way. It was a hurried escape on quick feet. The man wasn't as fast as him but he kept up just fine. He alerted the others he was coming, praying Murphy was ready to cover them. He took the steps two of the time, the ones that poured into the alley, but they stopped when they saw the walkers. Four mulling around, growling, and two caught glimpse of them.

The Sheriff's gun was stowed away in his backpack, Glenn froze.

The door was kicked open with force enough to make it smack off the wall, Murphy barreled through the archway with guns raised. With four silent, accurate shots he took out the walkers. Their heads popped off like balloons, leaving the alley sprayed with blood and bits of skull.

Rick stepped back, startled, "Who the hell-?!"

"Let's go" Glenn tugged him hard, running down and past the Irishman. They flew into the building, the door closing firmly and locking behind them. They stopped once they got into the supply room. Rick turned to thank the kid but he only saw blonde and the end of a gun. Murphy grabbed Glenn by the backpack and dragged him out of the way as Andrea went off on the Sheriff.

"What the hell, Murphy?" Glenn watched with wide eyes as Andrea pull a gun on the man.

"They're really pissed" Murphy whispered, keeping the boy out of the line of fire "Every walker in the city is outside right now."

"Shit" Glenn was starting to feel nauseas, this whole trip was a disaster "What did we do?"

Murphy watched the others try to calm Andrea down, "We saved a man."

**xXx**

Merle was out of his mind. Glenn and Murphy warned Rick back, to keep him from getting involved, but Dixon was taking it too far. From the moment 'nigger' slipped out of his mouth, the group was on him. T-Dog went down after he took the butt of his gun to his chin, a kick, a punch, and then Rick was down. Morales soon fell too.

"Dixon, stop it!" Glenn rushed forward before the Irishman could stop him "You're going to kill him!"

Merle spun around and put his gun to his head, startling the kid so bad he jumped back, "You wanna try and jump me too, you little fuckin' chink? I'll bathe your yella' skin red, boy."

Murphy grabbed Glenn by the strap of his back pack and pulled him away, stepping into the boy's place. Merle lunged forward, pushing the muzzle of the rifle into the slighter man's forehead.

"You don't fuckin' talk to him like that" Murphy hissed "You wanna kill someone, you racist piece of shit? Then you leave them alone and you look to me. If you're gonna kill someone, it might as well be a dirty mick, right?"

Glenn reached for him, trying to grab his arm, "Murph, don't."

"_Dwilo mulleoseo_" Murphy swung his touch off, holding out his palm to keep him back "_I il-eun naega cheoli hal su_."

Glenn gaped at him, the Korean words spilling so easily from his Irish lips. He backed up obediently, staying out of the way. Murphy took another step closer, surprising the Dixon briefly before he shifted the rifle end. He dug the muzzle into his neck, finger laying over the trigger in silent menace. Murphy stared him down, ignoring the uncomfortable choking pressure.

"I will blow your fuckin' head off" Merle threatened "I'll send you straight into the warm bosom of your blood-lovin' God, you clover-munching Papist."

"Oh, I _dare_ you" Murphy countered hotly, looking him up and down "You pig-humpin', meth-riddled, motherfucker!"

Rick couldn't believe the balls on the pale Irishman. He had some real steel in his spine. He had a pair of pistols strapped to his sides but he wasn't even trying to go for them. That face...that jaw, the distinctive beauty mark, the look...he _knew_ that man. He'd at least seen him somewhere before. Maybe on the job or-?

"You know the only reason I don't bust your pretty face up is because I'd never hear the end of it from Darylena" Merle shoved the gun up, forcing the Irishman's head back to expose the swell of his jugular "And that fuckin' brother of yours...well, I still owe him, don't I?'

"Trust me" Murphy snarled "You look prettier this way."

T-Dog came up and grabbed the Dixon's shoulder, digging his fingers in hard, "You leave the kid alone."

Merle took him down and put a gun to is head before Murphy could even blink. Thunder rumbled in the distance, Dixon hovered over T-Dog with a sneer and a muzzle to his chin.

"Don't hurt him" Murphy breathed, suddenly worried "We need every man."

Merle glanced up at him briefly. After a few too long moments, the redneck spit on the other man and stood up.

"Yeah! All right! We're gonna have ourselves a little powwow, huh?" Merle announced grandly, seemingly proud of himself "Talk about who's in charge. I vote me? Anybody else?"

Murphy gestured sharply, urging the others to grab T-Dog now while Dixon was wrapped up in his little speech. He kept an eye on the redneck while he went on and on bout a vote, about democracy and voting his top dog. He saw the Sheriff coming up behind him, looking determined to take him down. He needed to speak up, to distract him further, but he wasn't sure what to say to keep a bullet out of his head. What would Connor do? He could hear his twin scolding him, telling him to stay away from Merle, telling him that Daryl _wasn't_ a bad guy just because his brother _was._

"Dixon" Murphy started, pretending he was talking to Daryl "Calm down. You're not thinkin' straight!"

"I'll show you how clear headed I'm thinking" Merle exclaimed, raising his handgun above his head as if to fire into the sky.

Then Rick stepped in and the Dixon ended up handcuffsed to a pipe.

**xXxXxXx**

Glenn was almost hyperventilating, chest heaving beneath the parka he'd been forced into. A crowbar was clutched in his shaking fist, guts smeared all across his chest and back. He stank to high heaven and he had never been more nervous before. He was trying to take deep breaths to calm down but he was gagging too hard on the stench. He turned around and jumped, he hadn't heard the Irishman creep up on him. Murphy was chewing on the side of his lip, fingers lacing and raking over one another like he was jonesing for a cigarette. He stepped closer, hesitation on his face. Glenn opened his mouth to ask him what was wrong but didn't get the chance. Murphy grabbed him and dragged him into a hug, ignoring the blood and bits of organs squishing between them.

"I watched you go down that manhole and I heard the yelling" Murphy clung onto him as tight as he could, fingers slipping in the dead slick "I thought you were gone and it _hurt_, man."

Glenn hugged him back, heart beating out a tattoo on the inside of his chest for a whole different reason. For a moment he forgot all about the walkers he was about to wade through, the gore spread all over him nothing more than something to keep the two of them apart. Murphy ripped out of his embrace rather abruptly, leaving him open armed with cold slime drying on him.

"Be fuckin' careful, okay?" Murphy crossed his arms over his chest defensively "This group needs you."

Glenn frowned, wondering, _Do you need me?_

But Murphy didn't say another word to him, pulling open the door and gesturing outward. Glenn obeyed, glancing backward a few times on his way out to the street. Rick passed by Murphy, just as bloody, but the Irishman didn't care. He grabbed him by his collar, holding him back and lowering his voice. Rick glanced down at the man's bloody knuckles, shocked at how at ease he was with the walker blood all down his front and seeping into the lines of his hands.

"Don't you fuckin' let him die, do you hear me?" Murphy's sharp eyes dug into him "Don't you let him die out there with those bastards."

"I won't" Rick promised solidly.

"Promise me" Murphy tightened his grip, the material digging into the Sheriff's neck.

"I promise" Rick replied.

Murphy nodded in satisfaction, releasing him immediately. He flicked his rosary out and cupped the polished wood, the metal ring pressing coldly into his palm.

"I'll pray for you both" he assured him.

"Much obliged" Rick said with a note of confusion and wonder "Are you a priest?"

"I'm all you've got."

**xXx**

Murphy ripped through the lower level of the store, mind set on how to bar up the glass doors. The walkers had already broken through the first set and now their bloody, filthy palms smacked and scraped at the second set with renewed violence. Glenn was out there, that's all he could think of. Sweet, soft, nervous Glenn was out there with the damned. He managed to come across two single racks. He yanked them to the front doors and started trying to jam their lower bars under the handles, hoping to link the two racks together in a weak barricade. It was a long shot but he needed to try.

Andrea appeared from the hallway, wincing at the sight of the walkers so close.

"What are you doing?"her breath was rough with adrenaline "We agreed to leave it alone."

"The cop and Glenn are at there risking their lives for us" Murphy grunted, working on the second arack now "The least we can do is buy them some time."

"You need to get up to the roof with the rest of us" Andrea stated firmly "We're watching them."

Murphy pushed the rack with his shoulder, "Watching them isn't going to-"

A walker charged the door, jolting some of the already cracked glass so hard it shattered. The suddenness startled the Irishman, he lost his balance against the rack and collapsed. Andrea ran to his side and grabbed at him, sitting him up to get him off the glass.

"You stupid son-of-a-bitch" the woman gasped harshly "Jesus."

Murphy followed her gaze to his thigh where a shard of glass had cut thorugh his jeans and embedded itself into his flesh. He flexed the muscle and hissed when he felt the full inch of it's penetration, blood already starting to gush up around the smooth edges.

"Give me a shirt" he felt himself saying, instinct taking over. She ripped a cotton one off the braced rack and handed it over. He slipped one of his knives out of his belt and started to cut it up, teeth grit as each movement caused the glass to shift around inside him.

"Fuck, fuck" he cussed in a hurried streak, tying his make-shift tourniquet above the wound. Once he was done he ripped the shard out, ignoring Andrea's distressed sounds in favor of using a clean part of the shirt to wipe off around the cut. He had no water to clean it so he could only pray to keep the infection away. He wrapped it up tight with the rest of the shirt.

He cursed again when he saw how much blood he'd spilled.

Andrea offered her hand to help him stand, "You tried."

"Fat lotta good it did" Murphy accepted and rocked to his feet "That's gonna make 'em go crazy."

"Can you walk?"

He tested his weight, "Aye."

She raised an eyebrow at him, an edge of smugness to her voice, "How does the roof sound now?"

"Like Heaven."

**xXx**

The camp had an eerie quiet to it. The flap of clothes in the breeze, the rustle of tents, the chirp of birds, but not much else. Near the RV, Shane taught Carl how to tie a knot. The boy had been worried about the trip, not wanting Murphy _and_ Connor gone. He seemed to know that the camp was more unprotected, picking up on the subtle signs in the other adults.

The radio crackled suddenly, catching the attention of everyone nearby.

"_Hello, base camp! Can anybody out there need me?_"

That was T-Dog's voice coming through. Dale started toward the RV, another transmission coming through.

"_There ain't no response._"

"_Give me the damn thing!_" they heard Murphy bark, the static charge of a scuffle crackling over the line "_Connor? Connor, are you there?_"

He waited for a response, Dale started climbing up the ladder of the vehicle.

"_Daryl?_" Murphy's voice wavered, there was a line of garbled dialogue before it came in again "_Shane! Shane, I know you can hear me._"

There was a desperation in the man's tone, Dale picked up the receiver, "Reception is bad on this end. Repeat. Repeat."

"_We're stuck here in the department store_" Murphy's voice was coming in with more static now "_...walkers...swarmed...Dixon...gun..._"

Dale fiddled with the knob, trying to catch the signal again.

"_We're trying something_" Murphy's voice came in clearer "_But I don't know if we'll make it. T-Dog's roughed up and I've got a gash-_"

Dale cursed under his breath as he fiddled with the knob, hoping to get their friend's voice back. It was all crackle and static for heart-pounding minutes, the camp murmuring about the gash and their friend's position. Carol hugged Sophia to her side, the young girl's eyes were filled with tears the moment she heard they were stuck. Everyone knew she had a soft spot for Murphy, for the brothers in general.

The radio squawked loudly, popping like bubble wrap.

"_Shane, is that you?_" Murphy was pleading now "_Shane!_"

Shane slapped a hand over his eyes, trying to block out the sound. He dragged his pal down to cover his mouth, gaze wide and wet. Carl tugged violently on Lori's hand, little cheeks flushed in terror.

"Mom, that was Murphy!" Carl sounded absolutely heartbroken "He's in trouble."

"I know, sweetheart" Lori pet through his hair, just as worried "They said the department store."

Dale nodded, still fiddling with the device, "I heard it too."

Lori looked to her lover, "Shane-"

"No way" Shane cut him off "We do not go after them, we do not risk the rest of the group. Ya'll know that."

"He is _screaming_ for your help" Carol clutched her sobbing daughter to her hip "How dare you?"

"We have rules for a reason" Shane snapped, her mouth clamped shut.

"So we're just gonna leave them there?" Amy asked, bewildered.

"Look, Amy" Shane fiddled with his hat, wishing he didn't have to confront her "I know that this is not easy-"

"She volunteered to go!" Amy accused "They all did! To help the rest of us, remember?"

"I know" Shane pacified her "And she knew the risks, right?"

She glared as fiercely as her sister, "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want to go save someone who's crying out for your help?"

"You know I do!" Shane snapped, thinking only of the man trapped in Atlanta trying desperately to get a hold of them. He could picture Murphy clearly, filthy and huddled up on a roof somewhere with the radio clutched to his chest. Desperate, whispering his name into the speaker over and over, those sharp eyes dulled with tears and oh-so-pretty. His lashes would be wet with unshed tears, catching the light beautifully and reflecting back a dozen different colors. What a wonderfully tragic scene he was probably making.

Amy backed off, apparently seeing the malicious glimmer in his eyes. He cleared his throat and wiped away the images of the Irishman, refusing to indulge in that sick fantasy a moment longer.

"If they're trapped, they're gone" Shane tried to be gentle "And we're all just going to have to accept that. There's nothing we can do."

"She's my sister, you son-of-a-bitch" Amy pushed him in the chest with her open palm, he didn't even wince let alone move "And Murphy's a good man with a good heart! He's done nothing but help us!"

Shane cocked his head, looking down his nose at her, "And just what's so special about Murphy to you?"

She faltered but came back strong, "What the hell are you going to tell Connor when he comes back with food and all he wants is to see _his_ brother. Do you think he's just going to roll over and accept it?"

"She's right" Dale pointed out, sensing the tension between the two "Connor's going to want to go in there and blow up the entire town if he thinks his brother is still alive."

"They're dead already" a pain shot through Shane's heart, his words choking up his throat "You heard him, they're hurt. Murphy's probably bleedin' everywhere. The walkers will be like flies on 'em."

Lori pulled Carl closer, letting him bury his face in her hip like Sophia had been doing. She laid a hand over the ear not smothered by her shirt as if to keep him from hearing it.

The radio gave a high pitch whine of feedback, stinging Dale's ears.

"_Connor_?" Murphy's voice was still fading, desperate "_Please-_"

The signal died once more, cutting him off for last time.

**xXx**

"Let's go, let's go!" Morales called, disappearing through the doorway until only his voice lingered "We gotta get outta here!"

Everyone filed after him, taking their gear and bags like real soldiers. Merle was screaming his head off, telling them they couldn't do this to him and to come back. T-Dog snatched up his gun and Dixon nearly lost his mind, pulling at his handcuff until it bit harshly into his skin. Murphy was the only one who didn't move, standing in the negative space between freedom and Dixon.

"We're leavin' him, man, he ain't no good" T-Dog exclaimed, waving at the Irishman with the gun he'd taken "We ain't got time for this."

"I can't do this, it's wrong!" Murphy looked between them, determined "Just give me the key and go."

"He's right, listen to 'im" Merle's handcuff rattled violently on the pipe "You can't, man, it's not human!"

"He's _insane,_ man" T-Dog grit out "He'll kill you, your brother, everyone!"

"That doesn't matter now" Murphy insisted, hands out for the key "He's a man, just like us. He's alive and he's human, we can't leave him. I won't do it!"

"T-Dog, man, you can't leave me here" Merle pleaded, straining against the handcuffs "Not like this!"

"Fine!" T-Dog dug into his pocket, retrieving the key "You want to save him so fucking bad?! Here!"

T-Dog tossed the key, eyes widening as he realized just how high he'd thrown it. Murphy scrambled backward, leg throbbing painfully as tried to get beneath it. His arms extended to their full length, fingers curling and grasping at air. He didn't look where he was going and he smacked into the side of the roof, bending and curling like a cat to reach out over the ledge. He saw the flash of silver, felt it's cool surface on his fingertip, and then it fell. He watched it with a growing sense of horror, the sleek surface catching the light before it was lost forever between the cracks of the building beneath them.

Murphy whipped around, furious, "You fuckin' did that on purpose!"

But T-Dog was already gone, the door waving from where it had been pushed through.

"That fuckin' nigger! That ugly, black-skinned, monkey fucker!" Merle screamed at the top of his lungs, cutting his wrist from how hard he was pulling on his restraint "No good piece of shit! How fuckin' hard is it to catch a fuckin' key, you stupid mick! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Murphy dropped on his ass, eyes wide and heart heavy. Merle met his eyes and he knew it was over, something inside him just _knew._ In an off-hand out-of-body way, Murphy noticed the silver-blue of the redneck's eyes. So similar to Daryl's, the ones Connor stared into so much.

"Don't you dare leave me" Merle rasped "You're a man of God, you can't leave me."

Murphy could hear the others shouts to hurry from down the stairwell, echoing over the roof.

"I'm sorry" Merle yanked a his arm, the screech of metal-on-metal like nails on a chalkboard "You know I am, man. I was never gonna hurt you or nothin'. Just fuckin' around, s'not my fault you micks can't take a joke. I wasn't gonna do nothin' to you, I don't care what your fucking brother said about me. It's not true, Murphy, it's not, I swear."

Murphy clawed his nails through his hair, thinking of Connor and his constant stream of Merle's untrustworthy behavior. Of how much Daryl loved him, of how close the two brothers were. _Brothers._ Shit, he couldn't rip apart two brothers, no matter how much he hated one of them. Would Merle do the same in his position? Would he leave him on this roof to die? Merle would probably shoot him out of mercy or chop his hand off. But Murphy knew he couldn't shoot the man, death certain or not. Merle had put them all in danger but he'd shown his humanity, he'd spared T-Dog and he hadn't shot anyone. Sure he caused a ruckus but he'd been high, under the influence. This was so wrong.

"I don't know what to do" Murphy whispered out loud, dropping his hands "I don't know, I don't know..."

Merle rattled his hand around, "You fuckin' save me, that's what!"

Murphy jumped to his feet, an idea popping into his mind. He could cut the handcuffs. He started looking around for anything, finding only a toolbox. He poured out it's contents, rifling through the grimy tools for something sharp or strong. He flipped the box over, growling out his frustration. Time was running out and there was nothing there to use.

"I can't" Murphy stood, laying a hand over the lump of rosary beneath his shirt. He looked to Merle, hoping to see the disgustingly violent human being he'd always seen. Instead he saw a man who was desperate and scared, facade gone to reveal the basic need for survival in them all. He didn't want to die, none of them did. Self-loathing replaced his frustration, hollowing out his stomach in a way that brought bile to the back of his throat. He couldn't believe what he was about to do. The walkers were too hungry, too angry, too riled up, there was no way even he could fight them off. And with the way his thigh wound was leaking and throbbing they'd be all over him. He could barely run let alone physically confront an infected shell of a human being. If he gave Merle a gun the man would shoot him dead, and giving him a knife was liable to get him a blade in the back. Even if he slid it to him it was a waste of a weapon, Merle wouldn't survive tied to a pipe with a simple boot-knife.

"I'm sorry" Murphy backed up slowly, edging to the door "I'm so..._so_ sorry."

Merle's face morphed into a mask of pure rage, "You son-of-a-bitch!"

Murphy ran for it, darting through the door. He took two steps before something caught his eye. A thick chain hung off the railing, an open padlock hooked over the bottom link. Without thinking he grabbed it and went back to the door, looping it around the bar handle and through the heavy metal hole in the side of the door. He clicked it down and locked it, tugging on it as hard a walker would. It held pretty well, the door strong enough to take his weight when he threw it against it.

He could hear Merle yelling to come back, to get him out of there, to save him.

"Father, listen, _please_" Murphy pressed his forehead to the door, the surface cool against his overheated flesh "Watch him. Just until we can get back...don't punish Daryl like this."

With a hurried _Amen_ and a simple crossing over his chest, Murphy left.

**xXx**

Heat flared through Connor's hip, his fingers fumbled along the bow.

"Shit!" he spat, dropping the bow as the string burned a hot red streak down his forearm. The arrow landed a few feet away, stuck in the ground instead of the fleeing squirrel's head. He'd botched the shot completely and now his forearm stung like it had felt the wrath of bees. The sudden sensation recall of his dream had caught him off guard. Worry followed the pain.

Connor gently pulled the rosary out from under his shirt, laying his palm over it. It felt smooth against his sweaty palm.

"Murph?" he whispered out loud, almost expecting an answer. Connor was miles out from camp, two hares and an embarrassingly small amount of squirrel to his name. Daryl had split off from him about a mile back in the other direction, taking up a deer trail. He'd planned to head that way and meet up with him but he was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of wrong. He needed to get back to camp. Something had happened, something bad, he could feel it in his blood. He was half tempted to yell for Daryl, the man couldn't be _that_ far off now, but he didn't want to upset the prey.

Connor yanked his arrow from the ground, wiping the excess dirt off on his pants leg. There was no way he could hunt like this, he was much too distracted. He had to make the trek back before he chased off all the game with his cursing.

If he hurried he could get back before dark.

* * *

dwilo mulleoseo = **stay back**

**I can take care of this** = i il-eun naega cheoli hal su

**We're going to find out just what happened to Murphy (and Connor) in the next chapter. It'll be an installment flashback, kind of like Daryl's dreams (which are going to get filthier, by the way). I'm so excited, I haven't updated because I've been outling chapters ahead. Like, a lot.**


	9. The Thugs I

**So you want to know what the MacManus boys went through before the group? Do you want to know about the scars? The trauma? Well, here we go. The first installment. Think of it like Daryl's Dream series. Once there's a few installments you'll see the pattern.**

**The next chapter will be Episode 3 of Season 1**

* * *

_Two Months Ago – Two Weeks After Outbreak_

Their world went to hell within the span of hours.

The day had started out fair and mild, sun disappearing now and then behind the veil of clouds. Connor was struggling with the fire, crouched low on the ground so that dirt smeared across his elbows and knees. His t-shirt was ratty and stained, exposing patches of skin. Murphy was on the other side of the camp throwing his knives into some mounted hare skins on a nearby tree. He was getting better but they kept flying past the trunk. He'd only landed once and it was getting embarrassing. They'd been camping for almost a month and, unfortunately, _this_ was an improvement.

Murphy aimed and tossed, the solid thunk followed by the sight of the blade sticking out of one of the furs. He gave a whoop of joy, Connor lifted his head to look for himself.

"Good job" Connor grinned, lowering back down to see if the spark had taken "That's two."

"Shut up" Murphy drawled, aiming his second more carefully.

Connor's grin dropped when he saw no sign of fire. He'd been trying to start his own fires for days but every time he'd broken down and used the lighter. Not this time. He reached in and moved the ashes around, hoping to expose some light, but nothing came up. With the impatience of a frustrated man, he blew a sharp breath into the bottom of the fire pit. That was the worse thing he could've done. Sparks shot up and soot blew back out, flying into his eyes and across his face.

Connor sputtered and jerked back, clenching his eyes shut as hot pain shot through his skull. He rubbed at his eyes and coughed out bits of ash and grit, throat completely coated. He gagged and spit out grey. He dragged his t-shirt up and tried to dig the dust from his sockets, eyes watering so badly that tears cut two perfect lines down his cheeks.

Eyes shut and coughing, Connor didn't see or hear the man coming up behind him.

Murphy threw his knife, crying out when it hit the hare skin again. He pumped his fist in victory and turned to yell at his brother, to rub it in his face, but froze when he saw two broad-shouldered men creeping up behind the distracted blonde.

"Conn, watch it!" Murphy shouted, going for his pistol beside the fire. A heavy shot rang out and the pistol went flying along with half the log it had been sitting on. He scrambled backward, falling straight into a pair of thick arms. He turned and struck, fist catching the man behind him square in the ribs.

Connor heard his brother's voice and just reacted, rearing up and wrapping his arms around someone's neck. Panicking, he flipped the man over his body and wrapped his arms in a vice lock just below the man's chin. He choked him as hard as he could, aiming to cut off his air as quickly as possible. He still couldn't see but he could hear more men swarming into the camp.

"Murph?" Connor called, releasing the man when he felt him go limp. Someone grabbed him by the hair and he elbowed him in the groin, a pained moan telling him he'd hit his mark. Connor ran to where he knew the tent was, hoping to get to his guns, but someone snagged him around the waist and threw him off. He yanked his brother's knife off his belt and struck, feeling the resistance and eventual give of the tip sinking deep into flesh and muscle. The man yelped and let go of him, drawing back and away. Connor crouched down and strained to hear something useful, anything, but all he could hear was a scuffle nearby. His brother's grunts and angry shouts echoed through the clearing, bouncing off the trees. He couldn't pinpoint exactly-

Connor felt two men come up on him, he tried to pull away but they each snagged one of his arms. Someone tried to take his knife and got a slash across his palm as a reward, but a harsh twist to his wrist made him drop the weapon anyway.

"Clear his eyes, boys" a man laughed, a Georgia twang ringing through his voice "Let's get a look at his pretty face."

Water splashed into his face, he gasped as someone scrubbed an old rag over his face. A meaty hand dug into his eyes, roughly clearing the wet soot. Connor pulled his head away, rubbing his eyes off on his shirt and blinking away the grit. He looked around in horror to find their camp full of thugs, broad men with a various array of guns and blunt weapons that could really do some harm. It took a while for his vision to clear but he could see more than a dozen blurry bodies.

This wasn't good.

A dark skinned man knelt in front of him, eyes pitch black and full of malice. He had thick arms and a wide grin, maybe even handsome once but the scar down his cheek into his neck was puckered and violent. He grabbed Connor's chin and moved his face from side to side, examining him.

"He _is_ a pretty thing" it was the man he'd heard before his vision had been cleared "All tan and lean. I like this one."

"I dunno, boss" another man drawled. Connor caught a glance over the leader's shoulder, gasping at the sight. He started fighting twice as hard, even going so far as to chomp down on the darker man's hand. The leader growled and backhanded him, sending hot pain through his jaw.

By the trees three men had Murphy pushed to his knees, one holding him down by his shoulders while another yanked his arms high up behind his back. He was struggling and screaming but nothing was helping, he was just losing strength.

"Look at this one" one of the skinnier ones came up and grabbed Murphy by the hair, pulling his head back to show off his face "He's nice and soft, boss. A real screamer."

"Murph, you get loose, you run!" Connor commanded, his twin tried harder to stand up but he had too many men on him. Murphy tried to lunge away but a few shots were fired, knocking up dirt in little spouts. The Irishman jerked back, true fear on his face.

The leader stood silently, towering over him.

Connor watched in terror as the men manhandled his twin into the dirt. Murphy was screaming threats but they all fell on deaf ears. One wrapped his hands around his twin's neck, digging his fingers deep.

"Murph!" Connor could feel the muscles in his arms straining painfully "Don't you hurt him! Don't you fuckin' touch him! I'll fuckin' kill you!"

Something smacked into the back of his head, cutting him off as everything went dark

**xXx**

The throbbing in the base of his skull woke him up. It was sharp enough to send pinpricks through his teeth. After he got through the pain he realized everything around him was cold, he must have been there for some time because his bones felt like ice. He was laying on smooth concrete, chest bare and covered in goosebumps. Someone had taken his shirt and his pants were unbuttoned, the elastic along his underwear ripped along his hip (He could feel the band higher up than the rest of the material."

Connor pushed himself up on his elbows, prying his eyes open to see just where he was. Wherever it was, it was pitch black. For a moment he thought his eyes were ruined from the fire's ash but no matter how much he blinked the shadows stayed. He gingerly touched the skin around his eyes to find it tender, he probably looked hung-over and red from the irritation. He managed to get to his knees and started moving, waving one hand out in front of him blindly while the other felt along the floor to make sure he didn't crawl over anything sharp. His heart was thumping fiercely in his chest, blood pumping hot with adrenaline. He'd never had a problem with the dark before, he'd always seen it as somewhere to hide. Growing up he had played with Murphy in the pitch dark of the river or barn for hours without problem. He'd been strong, he'd known how to defend himself from a very young age, there'd never been anything to fear.

Now he was woozy from a blow to the head and blind. _Now_ he was terrified.

Connor palm hit a wall at a weird angle, sending pain up the limb. The surface was just as smooth as the floor and chilled. More concrete. It must've been a room with either blacked out windows or none at all. He followed the wall with both hands, still on his knees, until he found a corner. He wedged himself between the walls and pulled his knees up to his chest, taking a minute just to breathe and celebrate the small achievement. Isn't that what survival books said to do under stress? To stay calm and take everything one step at a time?

"Murph?" he called softly, though he didn't have much hope. There was shuffling somewhere far away, maybe on the other side of the room. Someone coughed and he tensed, he resisted th eurge to ask again until he knew who it was.

"Conn?"

"Murph" Connor sighed in relief "Are you chained down? Can you move at all?"

"I'm fine" he could hear his twin peeling himself off the floor "Why's it dark?"

"Those fuckin' thugs must've taken us somewhere" Connor recalled his last memory, a man choking his brother out "How's your throat?"

"Hurts" his twin sounded rough "You still blinded?"

"Maybe, I can't tell" the blonde waved his hand in front of his face "Can't see an inch in front of me."

"Me either" Murphy sighed, a small sound "Where are you?"

"In a corner."

There was a slap of Murphy's bare feet hitting the floor, he must've been standing up to find him.

"Don't!" Connor ordered, his twin obeyed without hesitation "I want you to look for a weapon first. Anything sharp or blunt. I'm going to find a door or winda' or somethin'."

Murphy was silent for a few long moments, obviously unsure, "...okay..."

Connor got to his feet with a sway, bringing his forearm along the wall for support. He listened to Murphy scuffle around as he worked his way down the wall. He only stopped when his arm hit an edge, a dip that led into a steel plate. He ran his fingers all over it until he concluded it was a door, a few more touches told him it had a deadbolt. He found the knob and twisted but it barely even rattled. He rammed his shoulder against it but it didn't give. The Irishman took a few steps back, estimating the distance, then kicked right where the deadbolt would be. The door held.

"Motherfucker."

Murphy dropped to his hands and knees and started feeling along the floor, shivering as the cold of the room threatened to lock up his arms. He searched for long, slow minutes but found nothing. He could hear his twin attempting to bust down the door but it didn't sound successful. His knives were gone, there were no boards or rocks in the room, they seemed to be weaponless.

Murphy ran head-first into something solid and yelped like a dog. He rolled back on his knees and fingered the tender lump on his skull, wincing when he prodded too hard. He reached out felt just what he had hit. It was a desk with heavy, round legs and a wide side. He shook it but it didn't move, it was a sturdy piece of furniture. Too strong to break with their bare hands. He guided his palms along the bottom and found something peculiar, two wooden rings were installed just under the surface at about shoulder length apart. Each one had a roped tight tight and looped through it, the material unyielding to his fingernails when he tried to untie them. He followed the trails to the floor, blinding skimming across the fibers, until the pads of his fingers were stabbed. He hissed and drew them back hastily, bringing each stung finger to his mouth. One was bleeding, the other close. He found one of the ropes and followed it at a much slower pace, being extra careful this time. About halfway through the small coil on the floor the rope knotted into and gave off for a heavy length of braided barbed wire.

"Jesus Christ" Murphy breathed, the implication of the strange bindings enough to make his stomach bottom out. Half rope, half sharpened barbed wire. Who would use such a thing? What in the hell would they use it _for_? Murphy recoiled in disgust, deciding instead to search the top of the desk for anything. It was false hope.

Connor walked along the wall with a little more confidence, passing by the corner to to the one farthest from the door. He eased down and sat with his back to the wall, shivering at the feeling of it.

"Murph?" Connor squinted, he couldn't even see his twin's outline "Did ya find anything?"

"No" drifted back " 'Cept a table."

"Get over here" Connor felt stupid when he gestured, it wasn't like he could be seen "There's nothin' in here."

He listened helplessly as his brother tried to make his way over him by voice alone. Murphy stumbled and cursed, smacking painfully on the floor.

Connor stiffened, "Murph?"

" 'M fine" came the raspy response. The scuff and shuffle meant his twin was crawling toward him slowly, being more careful now. He heard something brush the wall beside him and reached out, grabbing onto a bare arm and pulling him closer. Murphy yelped and jerked away from him on instinct.

"Conn?"

"Shh, sweetheart" Connor murmured, calming him down enough to get him to sit down beside him. His brother exhaled in relief and obeyed the silent command, their bare shoulders touching.

"Did they say what they wanted?" Murphy inquired, rubbing his hands together in front of him to warm them up. He was freezing and the room gave no comfort.

"Not a word" the blonde scowled "Bastards, all of 'em."

Murphy sniffed, seeming reluctant, "I-I'm scared, Conn."

Connor brow scrunched up, his brother was never scared. Murphy was reckless and wild, never thinking twice and always rushing in. He didn't bother with _what if's_ and he certainly didn't let circumstance scare him. That terror in his voice...that was rare.

"Me too" he found himself saying, and it was true "Come 'ere."

Connor parted his legs and opened his arms. Murphy found his way in the dark, crawling into his brother's lap like a lover and soaking in his warmth. The darker twin nuzzled up under his chin and wrapped his arm around his waist, getting an answering embrace. Connor cooed to him in Gaelic, finding his brother's hair and stroking through it.

"You're bleeding" Murphy touched the other's head "They hit ya pretty hard."

Connor winced, he hadn't even noticed the wound. It was toward the back of his head, the force of the blow must've split the skin open.

Murphy jerked against him suddenly, "Those bastards!"

"What's wrong?" Connor asked, hoping the wound wasn't too deep.

"My rosary" he felt his twin's fingers drift down his chest "_Our_ rosaries. They took 'em."

Connor pulled his brother closer, kissing his forehead sweetly.

"He will give us the strength to smite these bastards" Connor promised, glaring into the shadows "I know He will. He's done it every time before."

"He will give us strength" Murphy whispered into his chest like a prayer.

"Aye, my dear brother" he leaned down and rested his forehead against his hair "He will see us through."


	10. S1 - Ep3: Tell it to the Frogs Pt I

******I've taken forever on writing this so I'm going to give you the first part. I've been sick, not slept, all that good crap that happens in everyday life. So enjoy, my loves**

* * *

Connor wasn't sure how far he was from camp when he heard it. It sounded like a pulsing siren of some sort, the sound bouncing off every tree and hill until it seemed to come from everywhere at once. That meant humans, most likely someone from their group. Reality set in hard and fast. _Murphy._ His brother was back. Did they get the supplies? Did everything run smoothly? Had he just been paranoid? He needed to know _now_.

Connor took off at a run, game smacking against his back and his bow clutched in his fist. Branches swept by his face but he only ducked his head and kept going. He couldn't care less about the scrape and bite of the forest, not when his brother was back from a death trap. He prayed in an endless loop for Murphy's safety, chest heaving as he hauled ass to get back to camp. Every step took him closer to his twin, to relief.

Connor burst through the tree line, stopping only long enough to find the others. They were gathered around the cars, their welcoming turned sour by something. He approached on quick feet, eyes dancing from person to person in a mental checklist. Merle wasn't there, there was a new guy (but he dismissed him), Glenn was absent, and Murphy was nowhere to be seen. He stopped abruptly, taking in great heavy breaths like a drowning man, loud enough to catch everyone's attention.

"Where is he?" Connor demanded.

The group's stares were solemn and silent, sending him reeling. He tossed down his string of rabbits and squirrel, panting for a whole different reason now. Where was Murphy? What had happened? Connor's chest grew tight and his vision blurred up with tears of frustration, a sick feeling growing in his stomach.

Rick leaned his head down to Lori's ear, "Is that Daryl?"

"Hardly" Lori sighed, still clinging to him "That's Connor."

"Where's my brother?!" he barked, no one would meet his eyes.

"Conn?"

"Murph?" Connor whipped his head around, a hopeful expression replacing his glare. He finally spotted Murphy sitting on a tree stump a bit away from the others. His jeans were ripped open at the thigh, a red wound showing through across the pale skin. Glenn was kneeling next to him, dabbing at the gash with a spare rag and a family-sized jar of iodine. Connor ran over and cradled his twin's head between his palms, dropping kisses into his hair like rain until the other protested that he was embarrassing him.

"You scared the shit out of me. Don't you ever do that again" Connor pulled away and saw the wound again "What the fuck happened?"

His hand shot out, grabbing Glenn by the jaw to force the boy to look at him, "What did you _do_?"

"Stop it, I did this" Murphy snagged his brother's wrist and forced him to let go "I tried to bar up a door and I fell into some glass. It's nothin' bad."

"Idiot" Connor glanced at the Korean "I'm sorry, Glenn. Sure it wasn't easy on any of you, right?"

"You have no idea" Glenn replied, the stress of the day laying heavily on his shoulders.

"What the hell was with that siren?" the blonde asked, gaze falling on the new addition to their compound (a bright red car.) Murphy proceeded to tell him all about the walkers and how they'd swarmed, about Rick, about the glass, about the plan and how they had gotten away. He only stopped to hiss when Glenn put too much pressure on the wound, but he forgave him.

"I was wrong" Connor declared at the end "You're both idiots. Going down into the sewer? Tryin' to bar up a pair of glass doors? You two aren't allowed to go together anymore, you're going to get yourselves killed!"

The two winced at his harsh tone. Connor took a deep breath, letting it out in a small spurt, before laying a hand on each of their shoulders.

"And I'm glad to see you're both safe and sound" he concluded, they visibly relaxed "You took care of each other and that's all I could've hoped for. And as for that leg...you better sew it up tight or burn it closed, ya hear me?"

"Aye" Murphy wet his lips nervously, his brother missed the gesture "Is Daryl back yet?"

"Not yet" Connor dropped his hands to his sides "He's probably still trackin' that deer. We parted ways an hour in. He seemed pretty determined to get it."

"Connor" Glenn bit the side of his lip "We have...something to tell you."

The blonde tensed but stayed silent.

The Korean sucked in a deep breath, bracing himself, "We-"

"Merle was handcuffed to the roof" Murphy interrupted "He tried to take over the group and we fuckin' stuck him there. Then we...lost the key...and left him."

The darker twin scooted back on the trunk, watching his brother bristle up like a cat.

"You just _left_ him there?!" Connor was screaming now, face all ruddy as if he'd been drinking "That's inhumane! That's just – you can't – you bastards!"

"Man, don't be yellin' at them!" T-Dog came up to them, grabbing the Irishman's shoulder and wheeling him around "I threw the key too high and Murphy couldn't catch it. But it's just Dixon, man, he ain't nothin' but loud and violent."

Rick took a step forward but Lori and Shane both stopped him, the other man shaking his head while she mouthed _no_ a few times.

"This is a family thing" Shane stated firmly "It's best to let them smooth it out."

"This is on you too, then!" Connor shoved T-Dog hard, knocking the man off balance "How dare you?"

The Irishman turned and looked to his brother, "How dare you both?"

"Conn-" Murphy began pathetically, but his twin's glare was unyieldingly powerful.

"You should both be ashamed" Connor informed them sternly "What you've done is cowardly and sinful. Leavin' a man to be eaten alive like he was some common dog. How can you look at yourselves? How could you come back here knowing you killed a man?"

T-Dog did look rough, "He was...he was goin' crazy, man."

"He nearly killed T-Dog" Murphy offered "He put a gun to me head, Conn, what was I supposed to do?"

Glenn nodded hastily, "He really _was_ trying to take over, Connor."

"Fuck, fuck" Connor dug his palms into his eyes. He could only think of Daryl. Shy, awkward Daryl who loved his asshole brother for what he was. Merle was his only kin that cared about him, they'd been there for each other for years. Maybe a stint or two of jail or juvie, but they always came back. Daryl had told him once, late at night when he was too tired to really care about what he said, that when the outbreak began it was his big brother who threw their stuff in the truck and got their asses out of there. It was Merle who grabbed his crossbow and their guns, Merle who snagged him by the back of the neck and made him get in the Goddamn truck, boy because Daryl had been too terrified and dumbstruck by their neighbors eating each other to move himself. Connor could already imagine the pain that would come across the man's face when he found out.

Murphy and T-Dog kept talking, trying to calm him down, but he could only shake his head.

"Daryl's big brother is chained to a roof" Connor croaked, horrified.

"There's nothin' I could do" Murphy spoke over him, reaching out to touch his brother's arm "I couldn't wait any longer."

"And he's going to be eaten _alive_" Connor groaned through his hands, covering his face in exasperation.

"I chained the door to the roof" his brother whined, trying to bring him back "His stupid ass is still up there!"

"That's gotta count for somethin' " T-Dog added, hoping to get back in the near-hysterical man's good graces.

"Enough!" Connor barked, dropping his hands to start feeling along his belt. What weapons did he have on him? Full quiver, bow on the ground, Murphy's fancy Rambo knife on his hip, and no pistols, but that wasn't a problem.

"I'm goin' back" Connor declared, swinging his bow over him so the string laid across his chest to keep it out of his way.

"What?!" Glenn exclaimed, standing up "Are you actually insane?"

"It's not worth it, brother" Murphy grabbed for his arm again but his twin slipped out of his grip "Connor, stop! It's just Merle Dixon!"

"I can't bear to stay here and know that Merle is out there helpless" Connor huffed, fixing them with a nasty look "But most of all...I can't let Daryl find out just what you did to him. You, his friends."

He raised his voice, "We all know he could survive without us. He chooses to stay. He chooses to put his neck out day after day getting us food and what do we do? We leave his only family out in that God forsaken city."

Connor's eyes dropped to the dirt, darting cross it as if looking for the answers while his voice lowered to a whisper, "I can fix this, I know I can."

Murphy watched, stuck to the stump, as his brother went off and disappeared into the RV.

"What are we going to do?" Glenn asked, kneeling back down to get eye level with the other man "We can't let him go back in there alone."

"No fuckin' shit" Murphy drawled, eyeing the door. Connor emerged moments later with a set of keys and a bolt cutter, stolen from Dale's toolbox no doubt. He saw the man head toward one of the beaten old trucks and he knew it was the time. Despite the fire in his leg Murphy stood and went after the other, taking up a painful run when his brother made no move to stop. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him, forcing him back a half dozen steps. The lighter twin had this crazy determined look in his eyes, like he knew just what to do but couldn't do it fast enough.

"Stop it, Conn, just _stop it_" Murphy demanded crossly "You're not thinkin' right."

Connor's brow furrowed up, "I need to go get him. Can't you see that?"

"He's a bastard!" Murphy countered.

"It's not right!" he snarled, his brother grabbed his arm and wouldn't let go "You know it's not."

"You'll die out there!" Murphy teared up, voice going thick as he thought of losing his brother again "Do you hear me? You'll fuckin' _die_. There's too many and they're swarming! They're ripping down doors, for God's _sake_."

Murphy's voice broke, shattering, "You can't go."

Glenn bit down on the joint of his thumb as he watched, Murphy was falling apart but his twin wasn't even softening up.

"I have to."

"No you don't! _Conn_" Murphy turned the name into a curse as his brother pulled out of his grip, heading toward the truck as if his other half wasn't begging him to stay "You're gonna let it end like this?!"

"I'll be back, Murph" Connor assured him, already planning out his trek through the city "Quit your screamin'."

"I'm gonna lose you!" Murphy choked angrily, cheeks wet "I'm gonna lose you because you're infatuated with some emotionally stunted redneck who doesn't have the God damn capacity to love you back!"

You could've heard a pen drop in the compound. Shane's hands balled into fists at his side, T-Dog held his breath, and Carl's already teary eyes went as wide as saucers. Sophia squeaked and covered her mouth, glancing between the brothers as if waiting for a fight to break out. Glenn muttered a low _I knew it_ and scrubbed his hat down over his eyes, he couldn't believe how quickly this was escalating. The rest of the group was staring with open mouth, Lori was nearly white as she processed what he'd just said.

Connor turned on his heels and came back, eyes smoldering and burning straight into his twin. Without an ounce of hesitation he nailed Murphy in the jaw, knocking him on his ass. It was a sudden flash of fire followed by cool dirt between his fingers, copper on his tongue. Murphy spit scarlet and wiped his mouth, looking up at his brother like he'd never seen him.

"You shut your fuckin' mouth!" Connor was red faced and heartbroken, the truth hitting him like a fist in the gut "Don't you say another word or I'll beat your ass so hard you'll see stars, you hear me? Don't you _ever_-"

Connor bit his tongue, finding he mimicked his brother's wet cheeks. In that moment they were equal again. Both equally ashamed, both laid bare and humiliated in front of the entire compound. Murphy's eyes looked like his own in every way, red rimmed and glazed like a child amidst a tantrum.

"Fine" Murphy barely managed to sit up, heat pulsing through his leg "Go ahead, you stupid bastard!"

Connor turned away and started toward the truck with renewed purpose, white-knuckling the bolt cutters in his left hand. His right throbbed from the impact with his twin's jaw, the pressure had almost been enough to split all the skin. He blocked out his brother's voice and the thought of him, refusing to let anything hold him back.

"I'll make sure to shoot you with your own gun!" Murphy's voice wavered, a little dizzy from the rush of blood and adrenaline "Because you're gonna come back dead!"

Glenn went to the man's side, dropping to his knees and grabbing him by the shoulders. He took his weight to help him sit up, holding him closer until his hysterical screaming stopped.

"Stop" Glenn kept his voice soft "Murph...you're bleeding."

Murphy clutched his thigh with both hands, the pain doubled from his little run. He'd pulled the edges of it, blood now running anew and soaking into his jeans. He wasn't sure what hurt worse, his heart or the gash.

"I'll take you back to your tent" Glenn offered quietly, glancing at the camp "Don't pay attention to them."

Murphy pulled away at first but the other was insistent, refusing to let him hurt himself anymore. With his leg hurting and his chest aching, his brother's abandonment intensified. He reached out and grabbed the Korean by the shirt, nodding silently. He let Glenn stand him up and lead him toward his tent, allowing the younger man to take his weight.

Murphy wasn't sure who was the worse brother:

Connor for abandoning them or himself for revealing the tender secret.

**xXxXxXx**

Night fell hard on the light-less Atlanta, a swift descent into darkness that took Connor by surprise. Between him and Murphy, he was the one who passed for a hunter but he was no Daryl Dixon. He'd gotten over that fear of the dark those disgusting thugs had instilled in him but he wasn't as good as the other was. His eyes just weren't trained for it. He could speak a dozen languages, he could butcher meat, and he'd learned to shoot his bow and tie his snares like it was his job – but the whole ninja-owl-night-vision thing...he'd never gotten that down. He'd seen Daryl shoot a squirrel from across camp in the dead of night. He wasn't quite up to that yet.

But he was making do.

Connor had ducked into some kind of bait-and-tackle/hunter hybrid store a few minutes ago and he had quickly started in on raiding it. Of course Murphy hadn't spotted the store, the stupid thing was practically tucked into an alley (he'd passed it before doubling back). He'd quickly found a nice flashlight and some batteries under the counter, close by them a black messenger bag of sorts and he'd nicked that right quick. The end of the flashlight was stuck in his mouth and he beamed it along the pile of product he'd found. Almost nothing was on the racks anymore, he'd been lucky to find the store in one piece let alone organized. There weren't a lot of arrows but the few packs he'd found were the wrong size completely for Daryl's crossbow.

Connor cursed around the flashlight as he finally found a pack that fit. It was only three but they were perfect, anything would help. He ripped open the package and shoved them in his quiver. After a few more look-overs he decided that everything worth taking was in the bag already, a couple packs of matches and lighters along with a few boxes of bullets of various sizes. He headed out with clear conscious. The walkers weren't quite in the swarm the others had said they'd been in but they surely were packed tight around department store. They must've smelled something.

"Merle" Connor's eyes went to the roof "Stay there, you stupid bastard. Don't do anything dumb."

Bow drawn and arrow tucked in the same hand as the flashlight, Connor stuck close to the walls and made his way to the side of that building. Only one walker came at him, a boy no taller than his hip with a missing arm and one scratched out eye. With his heart fluttering like a sparrow in his ribcage, Connor freed up his hand and held it out for the boy to smell. It sniffed at him, head cocked, then made a sound like a whine. Forcing a small smile, Connor patted the once-boy's head. It was crusted with blood and felt grimy beneath his fingers, but it made the walker grunt and go idle.

Connor high-tailed it into the alley, shining his flashlight around to find it bare. He looked around for a way in and wrinkled his nose when he found broken fire escape, the bottom rung of it's snapped ladder out of reach. He put his bow over his shoulders and went for the old dumpster against the wall a bit away. He braced his shoulder against it and pushed. It took a few tries but he rocked it into submission, getting the rusty wheels to screech and move until it was where he wanted it. He hopped up onto it and started up the rickety ladder, getting onto the fire escape without much trouble. He stuck his flashlight in his mouth and hoped for the best. It only went halfway up the building, a more solid metal ladder mounted against the wall. It was a bit of a climb but he managed, refusing to look down for any reason (the fall would kill him). He could hear someone up on the room talking to themselves, at first it was just weak laughter but it soon turned into screaming.

It was Merle, he would've recognize that raspy voice anywhere.

"I know I didn't behave. I know I'm being punished" it sounded like the man was crying "Oh...oh, I deserve it. I deserve it. I've been bad."

Connor hurried, bow banging off the ladder side loudly.

"Help me now" the redneck was praying desperately, sounding pathetic "Show me the way. Show me what to do."

"Merle!" Connor called around the flashlight, hoping he wasn't doing anything drastic. His mind filled up with all sorts of scenarios, ranging from Merle simply breaking his wrist to the man sawing his entire hand off. He couldn't bare to think of Daryl's blood harmed in such a way. Those bastards left him and they'd reduced the once headstrong redneck to a blubbering mess chained to a pipe.

"Merle?" Connor asked again, spitting out the flashlight and scrambling over the side of the building. The edges were rough and scraped up his palm but ignored it, sweeping the beam over the roof in search of the other man. He found nothing and turned the flashlight to the alley, wincing when he found a dozen walkers or so ambling about now. His smell must've lingered, the greedy buggers had their noses in the air and their hands out wantonly. Connor shined the beam back onto the roof, calling the redneck's name again. The light fell harshly across the redneck's broad face, revealing sunburnt skin and a parched mouth. He was pretty exposed in his position, with the sun high in the sky he must've gotten hours of blunt contact.

Merle hissed and held up his hand, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Dixon, it's me" Connor ran over, dropping to his knees beside him and lowering the flashlight to let the man see him "You okay? You hurt?"

"Connor!" Merle exclaimed the moment he recognized his face "You fuckin' came! I knew you would! You have no fuckin' clue how happy I am to see your ugly mug."

"You had no idea I was comin', you fucking liar" Connor broke a smile, overjoyed to see the man alive (he'd had doubts) "And it's good to see yours too."

Merle's gaze hardened, grin shattering like weak glass, "You're fuckin' brother left me here like an animal, ya know. Left me here to die, they all did!"

"I know" Connor picked up the redneck's arm, examining his shredded wrist "This is gonna scar, don't look like you tore nothin'."

In the shadows of the roof, a door shook violently. There was a clink of a chain rattling, the biting and clawing at a door, heavy groaning.

"Walkers, kid" Merle was shaking his arm, making the handcuffs rattle "Hurry, get me out."

"They told me what you did" Connor confessed. Merle shut his mouth, hand stilling in his lap. He lolled his head back, staring at him like he could see right into his mind and find out what they had said. The Dixon was obviously considering lying to his face but he seemed uneasy. Like he thought it was life and death. Connor's heart sunk at this realization. Merle thought his life literally hung in the balance of his answer.

"You're not gonna leave me here cause I lost my temper now, are you?" Merle drawled, a slump in his shoulders telling the other he thought he knew the answer.

"No" Connor replied, digging in his bag for the bolt cutters "But I need you to do somethin' for me, Dixon."

Merle followed the bolt cutters with his eyes, wetting his parched lips, "Huh?"

"I need you to promise me you won't put everyone in danger like that again" the Irishman demanded "You're not exactly popular."

Merle nodded, staying silent.

"I'm fuckin' serious" Connor scolded crossly, feeling as if he was talking to his own brother "Those stupid, scared people back at camp are havin' a hard time finding somethin' redeeming about you or your brother. I don't much care about what they think of you, but what they think of Daryl means a great deal to me. Do you understand, Merle?"

Connor narrowed his eyes, the redneck scowled.

"Do you?"

Merle nodded again, this time with an understanding in his eyes.

"That'll have to do" Connor put down the flashlight, clasping the tool tight between both hands "Hold out your hand and keep still."

Connor carefully slipped the edge of the blade tips into the circle of the man's handcuffs, snapping it like tin. Merle breathed a deep sigh of relief and cradled his wrist to his chest, fingers dancing over the lashes across the skin to test their tenderness. He flexed the sore muscles and let the blood flow back to his digits, eyeing the Irishman the whole time.

"They alley's filling up, fast" Connor informed him, stuffing the cutters back in his side bag "We can't go back the way I came up."

Connor knew he could do it by himself but he wasn't about to put Merle at risk. And there was no way he was going to let the Dixon know just how much he affected the walkers. The Irishman started toward the edge of the roof again, securing his bow a bit across his chest to keep it from hindering him.

"Thought you said we couldn't go down that way?" Merle asked, still rubbing his wrist as he tentatively followed the other.

"Trust me" Connor ordered, swinging his leg over the edge to straddle the siding. He paused, hands braced on the rough surface, jaw set tight as he thought. A plan quickly formed in his head and he knew how they'd get out.

"Listen" Connor pointed at him, tone set in stone "For the next hour, let's trust each other, alright? I'll even take thirty. Let's just..._trust_ each other, yeah?"

Merle's mouth twitched, "Thirty minutes, leprechaun. You've got thirty minutes until I decide how the hell we're gettin' out of here."

The blonde realized that was the best he was going to get, "Deal."

Together, one right after the other, they went back down the ladder until they hit the second story. Merle kicked open the window and got scolded for the noise, they slipped inside carefully to avoid the broken glass. The room was trashed but other than that it looked like it hadn't been touched in months. There was a table piled with plywood, it looked as if someone tried to board the windows up and failed to secure the door. Merle snatched up one of the boards and weighed it in his hands, eyes shining in the dim light.

"Gotta have something" Merle stated.

"Here" Connor handed him the flashlight "If we come across a geek I'll shoot it but I need both hands to do it."

Merle took it, surprised the other trusted him.

"And _this_" Connor pulled his brother's classic Rambo knife out of his belt, offering the hilt to the redneck "It's sturdier than it looks. It'll go through a geek's head like butter."

Merle whistled lowly, "You want me to take out some commies while I'm at it?"

He glared, "Do you want the knife or not?"

"Chill your ass, kid, it's cool" Merle held his hand out, palm forward "Get your pansy-ass bow ready to shoot some bastards, okay?"

"I'll shoot whatever you find" Connor notched his bow, pulling the arrow back a bit "Stay behind me."

They started through the room and into the hall, Connor's step cautious while the other danced the beam up and down the hall.

Merle was the first to break the silence, "Why'd you come back?"

"It was wrong what they did" Connor admitted, back to the wall and arrow up "That and Daryl is gonna flip shit when he finds out they left you to die up there. Better cushion the blow by bringin' you back, yeah?"

They turned into the main hallway, the clouds must've parted outside to reveal the moon because a bit of light was pouring in through the windows. They took a minute for their eyes to adjust and when they did they saw the two walkers shuffling toward them, eyes white and bloody and arms hanging limp at their sides. The redneck shined the flashlight on them and Connor took them down with practiced ease, taking only a few seconds between shots to line up the sights and take a breath. The dead fell, the shafts protruding from their sickly white foreheads

Merle bit back a reflexive _good shot_ and kept walking, ignoring the Irishman as he fished his arrows out of the bodies. They headed into the next room, a large one that was a sort of a hybrid between a kitchen/employee area. Bloody handprints were all over the nailed-shut windows, an ominous leftover of the last inhabitants. This room was a bit darker and flashlight gave a helpful light.

"Could be another fire escape" Connor commented, searching for any lingering walkers "If we can get to a bare area I bet I can find our way back to the truck. Made a few wrong turns gettin' here but it shouldn't be too hard."

"Where's the truck?" Merle inquired lightly, testing the weight of the board in his hand again.

"You know where the railroad tracks are?" Connor waited for the redneck's grunt before continuing "I left it there. Less chance for the geeks to get it. Shit, it's dark in here, ain't it? Can't see not but a few feet in front of me."

The Irishman set his bow on the table and started digging through his side bag, searching for the spare flashlight and batteries.

"You came back for Daryl, huh?" Merle grunted, the man was somewhere close behind him. He caught the wave of the flashlight beam in his peripheral and kept an eye on the redneck that way.

"He's my friend. I don't want him thundering back here by himself lookin' for you" Connor could easily imagine it and it scared him, his fingers closing around the spare flashlight too-tightly "You know the moment he hears you're in trouble he'll come runnin'."

"Yeah?" Merle scoffed "And why is that? Why would he leave all that warm and cozy back at camp to come 'ere?"

"Because that's what brothers _do_" the blonde replied in exasperation, shoving the batteries in but one flick of the switch told me they were the wrong way "Stupid fuckin' things..."

"I see you followin' my brother around like a pup" all the mirth had bled from Merle's voice, leaving a bone-dry growl "See the way you look at him, mick."

Connor stilled, goosebumps breaking out along the back of his neck, "I don't-"

"Don't lie to me" the flashlight beam had stopped moving, stilling on the far wall like it was the most fascinating bit a man had ever seen "I can see it on your stupid mug. You've gone and fallen _in_ _love_ with him, haven't ya?"

The mocking tone in the redneck's voice made him bristle, "Man, it's not like that..."

"Come on, Clover, you can tell old Merle" the redneck sounded like he was smiling, Connor was too afraid to turn around to see for himself "I ain't gonna tell my brother nothin'. Ya saved my life, didn't ya kid? I owe you or somethin', right?"

"He's...a good guy" Connor fumbled the batteries back into the device, his cheeks flushed "Anyone would be lucky to have 'im."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he hear it, the swoosh of plywood cutting through the air. The thick edge of it connected with his sides, striking between two ribs hard enough to make him lose his breath. He didn't even have time to turn around before he was struck again across the length of his back, sending him sprawling forward onto the tile. He gasped for breath, elbows smacking dully off the slick surface when he tried to brace himself. His flashlight bounced off the floor and rolled away, batteries clattering out of it. His arrows, jolted on the impact from within their shell, spilled out and peppered around him. He looked over his shoulder, finding Merle standing over him with that damn piece of plywoodc radled in his palms.

"My little brother ain't no faggot" Merle knelt down, an ugly scowl on his face as he met the Irishman's eyes "And I ain't gonna stand back and watch you undo all that hard fuckin' work I put into him."

Merle grabbed the man by the hair, fisting the blonde spikes painfully, "He was damn near normal before you pranced your pansy ass around in front of him. I ain't gonna let you turn him into a some cocksucker."

"I think you're...contradicting yourself there" Connor wheezed, wincing as the man tightened his grip in his hair. He managed to get up on his hands and knees, cradling his aching ribs protectively.

"I've been watchin' ya too, you know" Connor's accent thickened as he fought off the urge to vomit from the stomach blow "I've seen into that lustin' heart of yers and I know what you want. You jus' won't admit it. You can say a fuck is a fuck but you're...you're too inbred and backward to realize you don't mind a plaything with a cock. Right?"

Merle reared back and swung down, Connor barely managed to roll out of the way. The man looked furious and (if he was being honest) a little raw, a little exposed to more than just sun.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" the Irishman demanded, hand still splayed over his side as he glared up at the redneck "I'm tryin' to save you, you fuckin' asshole!"

"I don't need savin', you dumb mick!" Merle's tough mask slid back in place, book digging into the Irishman's side. Connor splayed out across the floor, groaning and rubbing the sore spot out of his smarting stomach.

"Ya know..." Merle drawled, stepping up to the blonde "I think I just figured out the best way to get back at you for takin' off a piece of my ear and sniffin' around my brother."

Connor growled and pounced like a cat, shooting up from the ground and taking the redneck by the waist. They rolled down and around the floor, pushing and pulling at one another to try and get the upper hand. They both fought for control of the plywood, knowing one hard blow to the head and it would all be over. Connor's punches were quick and aimed at the man's thick waist, getting in a few good shots that took great puffs of breath out of the redneck. Merle, that cheap bastard, jammed his knee straight into the Irishman's groin. Connor groaned, sitting up on his waist, and got a heavy punch to the ribs.

Merle gripped the board and swung strong, catching him in the side of the head. The blonde collapsed onto the floor in a limp heap. The older man watched him for a few seconds but the other seemed to be out cold, blood trickling from the new gash across his forehead and into his pale hair. Merle rolled over, bracing himself over the other man to really look him over. He seemed to be breathing but barely, lithe chest stuttering a bit beneath his shirt. He leaned down to Connor's ear, making sure the man would hear every word he had to say.

"Nice try, kid" Merle knew he sounded rough but he didn't care "The next time I see that cock-sucking brother of yours I'm going to fuck him good and hard. I'm gonna make him scream for his poor, _dead_ brother. And then?"

Merle wet his lips, barely grazing the man's skin, "Then I'm gonna wrap my hands around that pretty neck of his and I'm going to choke the light out of his eyes."

Connor's only response were a few rough breaths, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. The Irishman was stronger than he gave him credit for, he'd probably wake up within the hour. He couldn't have that. Merle dug a pill bottle out of his vest, silently thanking Officer Friendly for missing it when he searched him.

"I was savin' this for somethin' but I wasn't sure what" he flipped off the lid and tipped three pills into his palm "Now I think I know. Kinda glad I didn't pop 'em now."

Merle slipped his thumb between Connor's lips, prying his mouth open with a soft hum, "Never noticed this before...but you got a pretty mouth, just like your brother."

Merle dropped the pills onto his tongue, shoving two of his fingers into the Irishman's mouth to push the tablets down the man's throat. Though passed out, Connor gagged and tried to fight it off, but the other was more insistent.

"I've always wanted twins" Merle grinned when the other swallowed around his digits, mimicking a much more pleasant act as he took those pills "This might've been my last chance. Too bad."

Merle stood up, throwing the plywood over his shoulder like a sword, "Sweet dreams, dead man."

**xXxXxXxXx**

Murphy set his boot knife on one of the rocks in the fire pit, getting it as close to the flames as possible as he listened to Officer Grimes tell them about how he escaped the walkers. The friendly bit of the group, the ones who were growing as friends, were gathered around the fire together under blankets and in jackets.

Murphy knew Rick was the man from his dream, there was no doubt. The hospital, those eyes – it was definite. But Rick seemed to know him too. When he looked at him he had this worrying expression, like he was seconds from realizing just who he was and what he'd done. The man was a cop, Murphy was technically an outlaw, he was sure it was only a matter of times before he realized it. Thank God Daryl was the only one who knew his last name.

If Rick found out they were the Saints, it was game over. There was no way a kind, intelligent man like this would let them around the kids if he knew just what they'd done in the past.

Murphy sat down beside Glenn, flashing the concerned kid a smile. He noticed that Lori and Shane were exchanging looks of their own, though those were darker and full of malice. Lori seemed to be giving off signals to back the fuck off and their leader was confused, hurt, unsure of his place now. Rick had a presence, he filled up every inch of space and left no room for Shane to exert his position.

Rick was in the middle of thanking Shane when there was a crackle of wood from a way off. Murphy's gaze darted to the next camp, where Carol and her husband were set up. Ed, that bastard, had put another log on the fire. The glow was dangerous, Shane had already expressed that, and the twins had already got on the abusive man about it before. Connor hated Ed, he'd caught the man with his hand around Carol's throat and he'd nearly snapped his wrist in half. Ed must've felt safer now that his brother was gone.

Shane growled and went to stand up, "God damn it."

"Hey" Murphy stood, waving him back down "I got this."

Shane hesitated, "You sure?"

"Don't worry about it" Murphy flashed a grin at their leader "Trust me."

The group around the fire watched him walk toward Carol's camp, grin fading to a firm frown.

"Hey, Ed, you wanna rethink that a bit?" Murphy inquired, circling around to face the three members of the family. Sophia smiled at him, he shot her a wink.

"It's cold, man" Ed drawled, not even giving him a look.

"The cold doesn't change Shane's rules, does it?" Murphy clicked his tongue disapprovingly "We need to keep our fires dull so we can't be seen from the woods, don't we?"

"I said: It's cold" Ed snapped, dropping his head down to glare at him with the severity of a man who was used to getting their way "You should mind your own business for once, leprechaun."

Murphy winced at the insult. Merle was known for shooting it at them most of the time and Ed seemed to have picked up the dirty habit. Back over with the others, Glenn tensed and wrung his hands in his lap nervously. The Irishman was still injured, the gash on his thigh covered with gauze but not much else. If they got into a fight...it wouldn't go well.

"There's no use getting up on Shane's nerves just to prove a point, Ed" Murphy lowered his voice, glaring back just as hard "I'm pretty sure you and Connor already had a talk about this."

Ed brought one of his hands into his lap, fingers clenching tight as he recalled how easily the Irishman had taken him to the ground and twisted his bones until he'd cried out.

"Well, he ain't here, is he?" Ed countered, raising his chin defiantly.

"I am" Murphy replied, voice a touch lower and a hundred times more menacing. Sophia pressed closer to her mother, eyes wide to catch every flare of fire.

"Pull the damn thing out" Ed ordered, obviously talking to Carol "Well go on, do it."

Carol moved the blanket aside and began to stand, but Murphy made a disapproving noise.

"You stay, love, the night air's a bit too cold for ya" Murphy drawled sweetly, hand falling to the knife on his belt "Ed...be a gentleman and pull the fuckin' log out before I gouge out your eyes and use them for kindling instead."

Sophia whimpered, hiding her face in her mother's blanket.

Without looking away, Ed leaned forward in his chair and caught the butt end of the log he'd tossed in. He pulled it out onto the ground and let it go a second before the Irishman dug his heel into it, stomping the flames out of it until they were nothing but embers.

"Much obliged" Murphy stepped past the fire and knelt in front of the two women "Carol, princess...how's the evening treating you? Fair, I hope."

"Fine" Carol managed the barest of smiles "We're just fine, Murphy, thank you."

Ed's glare laid heavily on her shoulders, she pulled her blanket tighter, "I-I'm sorry about the fire."

"Don't you apologize for one second, darlin', it took care of itself" Murphy touched her knee, smiling kindly once more "And you, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine" Sophia whispered, darting her hand out from beneath her blanket when he raised his own in silent invitation. Murphy took her small palm in his and brought it closer, dropping a brief kiss onto the back of it to give her some much-needed comfort.

"You go to bed early, alright?" Murphy instructed her "I want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow mornin', you're going to help me cook breakfast up for everyone. Does that sound good?"

"I'll be up" Sophia's smile grew stronger, face warm under the attention "I promise."

"Good girl" Murphy rubbed his thumb over her hand "Sweet dreams."

With one last nasty look to Ed, Murphy got to his feet and went back over to the rest of the group. He sat down with a huff, pulling aside the torn fabric of his jeans to reveal the bloodied gauze. He glanced up to find Rick staring at him curiously.

"I didn't catch your name" the sheriff asked lightly, stroking his son's hair in his lap.

"Murphy" the Irishman replied curtly.

Rick laughed light-heartedly, "Does a last name go with that?"

Murphy plucked a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans, tapping it against his palm, "O'Riley."

Rick opened his mouth to ask the man not to smoke until the children went to bed but Murphy only took a single stick out, tucking it behind his ear. It seemed to be a nervous gesture, pale fingers fluttering like he truly needed something to play with.

"Your brother is spirited" Rick offered "Connor, wasn't it?"

"_Uliga geuleul mid-eul su issna_?" Murphy snapped, head cocked toward the Korean. Glenn looked around at the confused faces of the group, amazed once more that the Irishman was so fluent. He scooted closer and lowered his voice, hoping his tone put the others at ease.

"_Mullon, ulineun hal su issseubnida_" Glenn hushed "_Geuneun ulil gu_."

"I don't know" the dark twin muttered, leaning forward to grab the handle of his knife. He couldn't look at Rick directly, he was terrified the man would recognize him. The sheriff looked put off.

"What are we going to do when Daryl gets back?" Amy asked suddenly, tucking up against her sister's side.

"Who's Daryl?" Rick inquired.

"Merle's brother" Andrea replied, watching Murphy for his reactions "Him and Connor are...close. They hunt for us."

Murphy snorted, thinking that the two hunters did a hundred times more than that. They made it sound so simple. _Hunt_. Like they didn't provide the very food this camp survived on. Like Connor didn't wash the clothes like it was the last thing he'd ever do and Daryl didn't keep Merle in check twenty-four/seven. Murphy pushed his pants aside and ignored Glenn's quiet protest to leave it alone, ripping off the gauze and tossing it in the fire. Before anyone could stop him, he laid the blazing hot blade across the length of the gash.

"Murphy!" Glenn tried to grab the knife from him but the deed was done, the wound was sealed. He drew back the knife and revealed the burnt, closed surface that would scar horribly.

"No infection" Murphy hissed through grit teeth, swallowing down all the screams and groans he wanted to emit. This was nothing new, the puckered flesh on his upper arm was a testament to that. Bullet wounds were old hat, glass was practically nothing.

Shane whistled, "Tough guy."

"Fryin' meat's bad enough" Murphy took a few deep breaths, knuckles bone white as he held on to his pulsing leg "You don't need me bleedin' everywhere."

"Murphy?" came a soft voice.

Murphy looked over and saw Sophia eyeing his leg with pale cheeks and wide eyes. He pressed his jeans over the wound to cover it up and smiled at her as warmly as he could.

"It's nothin', sweetheart" he cooed, soothing her worries enough for her to turn back around to her own fire. He grimaced and hid his face in Glenn's shoulder, muttering in Korean that_that_ had hurt more than he remembered.

"You've done that before?" Glenn blurted out, shocked.

Murphy laughed, forehead still pressed to the younger man's shoulder, "Boston's dangerous."

"Boston?" Rick parroted "You're far from home."

"Farther than you'd think" Murphy muttered, the thought of Ireland fresh enough in his mind to bring shivers of rain to his skin. Glenn couldn't stop himself from reaching out and curling his fingers along the Irishman's shoulder, arm stretched across him as if to hide him from the seeking eyes of the others.

"Daryl's gonna be pissed when he finds out about his brother and his best friend here are missing" Glenn changed the subject, giving the other a moment to heal.

"Merle seemed so..." Rick rubbed his cheek along Lori's hair, thinking "I just can't imagine a relative of his close to someone who..."

"They're pretty different people" Jacqui stated "Connor's very...nice, very polite."

"You mean _hot_" Amy chimed, getting a flick in the head from her sister "Ow!"

"And Daryl's very introverted" Angela supplied, ignoring her sister's glare "Somehow they make it work."

T-Dog dug his palm into his forehead, "If I hadn't thrown the key so hard, Connor wouldn't be-"

"Don't start that" Shane cut him off "Connor chose to go, he wanted to. You saw the way he stormed off, there was no stoppin' him. Merle's gone. And now Connor's gone. That's no one's fault but his."

Murphy sat up, pulling away from Glenn with a scowl, "_I_ should've gone with him."

"With that leg of yours, you'd be walker bait" Andrea tisked "They would've been drawn to the smell. You shouldn't have tried to bar those doors anyway."

Murphy frowned and reached for the cigarette in his ear but he stopped himself. The others discussed how to tell Daryl and he couldn't bring himself to give an opinion. In all honesty he hoped beyond hope that his brother would bring the man back. They rarely spent a night apart, even with women between them, and he found it an unnerving experience.

"And _that's_ what we're going to tell Daryl?" Dale inquired skeptically, the idea of it being Merle's own fault an unappealing one "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you? Word to the wise – we're going to have our hands full when he gets back from hunting. His brother is bad enough, but once he hears that Connor went without a gun-"

Dale cut himself off, glancing at Murphy. The loud, brash words from earlier were still fresh in everyone's mind. He wanted to ask, they all did, but it was really none of their business. Unfortunately, Rick didn't seem to understand the silence.

"I don't understand" Rick frowned "Were Daryl and Connor _that_ close?"

The implication that they were sleeping together hung in the air.

"They're always together" Glenn chose his words carefully "And Daryl's really intense. It's just...a good idea to break it to him softly."

Murphy wanted to tell Rick to shut up and mind his own business but he looked up to find Caryl gazing at him from beneath his dad's arm. The boy seemed upset, nose all scrunched up like that. Murphy smiled at him and dropped his hand, a questioning look on his face.

"What is it, kid?" Murphy asked softly, getting the boy to really look at him. Rick peered down into his son's face curiously, seeing the connection between them instantly.

"Daryl's gonna be real angry" Carl rasped, truly worried about the hunter's reaction.

"You let your Da and I worry about Daryl" Murphy assured him gently, not wanting to concern the child after he'd finally gotten his dad back "Conn will be back before then."

"You're really gonna like Connor, Dad" Carl looked up at his father, getting another pet along his hair "He shoots like an angel!"

Lori's brow wrinkled, "Why do you say that?"

"Connor said we have to look on Earth for angels, not in Heaven" Carl stated matter-of-factly, obviously proud of himself for remembering the man's words "And who shoots better than angels? You know, the ones from those stories. Archangels, right?"

"Mm-hmm" Rick hummed, amused and wanting to know more about this man his son seemed to admire so much "Now how did this come up?"

"I told him you were...dead" Carl frowned "He said his dad was with _you_ and you both were watching over us."

"What?" Murphy snapped, a harsh sound that startled the boy. The Irishman immediately flushed with shame, mouth snapping shut to keep anything else from spilling out. He hadn't wanted to scare the boy but the implication of his father being dead hurt him, striking a chord inside him that he didn't like. He muttered an apology and stood, storming off without looking back.

Glenn stayed long enough to talk with the group about Merle some more and helped decide that Rick would be the one to tell the younger brother. He didn't want to make race an issue but the Dixons weren't exactly tolerant, even Connor got _mick_ thrown at him like it was an endearment. He waited just long enough to throw off suspicion before he went after Murphy, hoping the other man was okay.

Glenn stopped by his tent first, grabbing the first aid bag his mother had shoved into his back-pack only a month before the apocalypse had started. They had barely spoken a word in years and he'd come home with bruises and scrapes, begging shamelessly for enough money to satisfy the collectors that had found him at work. She'd refused to give him any cash but she'd cleaned him up, fed him, and then shoved this nicely stocked black bag into his pack. He hadn't even said thank you. Next he headed to Murphy's tent but it was still zipped, untouched. He headed around it into the woods, following the sound of shuffling feet. If it was a geek, he'd run, but the faint cursing told him it was his friend. He found Murphy pacing between two trees, a trail of hot-boxed cigarette butts mingling with the leaves. He seemed to be halfway through his pack, another stick burning between his lips. The moonlight showed the pain on his face from walking, thigh still stained with blood even with the sealed wound. It looked dark and angry from between the folds of his jeans.

"Murphy?" Glenn called, slowly coming closer so not to startle the man "Let me take a look at that leg, man."

"My Da's not dead!" Murphy barked, eyes red when he turned them to the Korean "He's not fuckin' dead, you hear me?"

"Of course not" Glenn pacified him with the gentle tone "Connor was probably just trying to make him feel better."

"He's not dead" Murphy wiped at his face with the back of his hand, cigarette trembling between his fingers "And Conn's not dead...can't be...they all think he is, I can see it when they look at me. They think he's fuckin' dead too!"

Murphy was shaking too hard to hold the cigarette, it fell to the grass and burned through the blades. He raked his hand through his hair instead, showing off the line of his arm and the scarred flesh it held. It was puckered and raw-looking, old.

"That's enough" Glenn grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back towards the tent "You better put yourself back together. Do you really want Shane and the others to see you like this? Acting crazy? This is seriously _no_ time to lose your shit."

Murphy allowed himself to be lead, too tired and hurt to put up much of a fight. For a moment Glenn sounded like Connor and it soothed him, taking some of the adrenaline out of his system. The other urged him into his tent, following him inside and closing the flap behind him.

"Lay down" Glenn busied himself lighting the only lamp in the corner of the tent, fumbling for a moment with the matches "Take off those jeans. They're covered in blood."

Surprisingly, Murphy obeyed. The Irishman started stripping off his clothes and tossing them aside, hands still shaking like he was seconds from losing it completely. Glenn turned in time to watch him lay down in nothing but his underwear, one arm slung over his chest in a facade of modesty while his legs spread to give him room to work. The wet, trusting look in the man's eyes stole the breath from Glenn's chest, sending heat pulsing through his groin. He shifted around in hopes of easing the tightness in his pants, using the med satchel to cover up the evidence.

Murphy noticed despite his effort, hitching his boxers up a bit more than necessary as he offered his thigh, "Is this okay?"

"Yeah" Glenn husked, crawling up to kneel between his legs "Hold still."

Glenn pulled out some fresh gauze and wet it in antiseptic. He grabbed Murphy's knee to steady him before he started dabbing at the burn, cleaning up blood and charred bits of flesh. The Irishman gave a whine and wiggled, trying not to move and failing.

"It's dangerous to cauterize with boot knives" Glenn scolded "You should've let me sew it up or clean the knife or _something_."

"I've done it before, it's not a big deal" Murphy grunted, the wound still tender "Last time it was with this dirty, rusted up iron. This is no big deal."

"Do you make a habit of falling into glass?" Glenn teased, trying to ignore the warmth of the man's skin beneath his palm "Or do those bar fights of yours get out of hand?"

Murphy kept his mouth shut, closing his eyes to soak in the contact. Real human interaction...it was what he'd been craving when he'd first staked out of the camp. He hadn't expected to get so close to someone but the touch was nice. No one but Connor had touched him out of love for months, maybe longer. Glenn's obvious arousal and gentle touches were just what he needed, driving down his defenses and making him a bit more pliant than usual.

"It was a bullet wound last time."

Glenn froze, head popping up, "What?"

"I got shot" Murphy cracked his eyes open, touched by the true concern on the Korean's face "Just once. I barely felt it."

"Barely felt it?" Glenn declared, pulling back and staring at him like he'd grown a second head. Murphy held out his arm to show off the scar completely, feeling more vulnerable than he had since Merle had caught him by the neck in Shane's arms.

"See?" he croaked "Nothin'."

"What the hell were you doing in Boston, Murphy?" Glenn snapped, eyeing the old scar with a growing sense of horror.

Murphy thought on it for a moment, coming up with only one real answer, "God's will."

"God's...?" Glenn sighed heavily, scratching his hat across his hair in an exasperated effort "Listen, Murph, I can't keep helping you if you keep lying to me."

Murphy found it in him to smirk, "If that were true, you wouldn't be in here with me now."

"I-" Glenn bit down on his lip, glaring "Shut up. I'm here because you're pathetic without Connor."

"Whoa is me" Murphy drawled sarcastically, shifting around when pain shot through his thigh. Glenn's hand shot out and grabbed the Irishman's smooth hip, urging him in a whisper to stay still for just a minute more. He continued to clean up the sealed wound, wincing when he saw that the man had missed a spot on the wound. It was just a triangle of deep, dark gash but it could still get infected.

"You missed a spot, Hercules" Glenn reluctantly teased, cleaning it as best he could "You couldn't be a little more careful while trying to seem like a badass?"

"You think it's badass to hurt this much?" Murphy annoyance morphed into something coy "Well, now I know what turns you on, Korea."

"Dude, are you seriously doing this?" the other asked skeptically, dropping the gauze in favor of brushing his knuckle across the Irishman's wet cheek "You're trying to flirt with me and you're still crying."

"Shit" Murphy scrubbed at his face, realizing how stupid he must've seemed "I'm sorry, I just-"

They both froze, body warmth bleeding into one another. They met eyes in the semi-dark, Glenn's hand still splayed across his hip and palm still pressed to his jaw. It was intimate and much too close, closer than was normally accepted...closer than Murphy had been to another human being that wasn't his blood or trying to kill hurt him. Glenn hovered over him, mere inches from his face, staring with those big hazel eyes that reminded Murphy of every innocent thing he'd ever seen. Bunnies, choir boys, pink candles, and poppy flowers all rolled into one.

Murphy curled his fingers in the boy's shirt, bringing him just a little closer. He tilted his head and pressed his nose to the hollow of his throat, inhaling softly to really smell him. There was sweat and musk there, an undertone of pure flesh and blood. Life. He smelled like life.

"Murph..." Glenn muttered, pale cheeks flushing at the contact. He squeezed the man's hip tighter, flesh warm and pliable beneath his grip. It was a new sensation for him, he'd never been this close to someone let alone another man. The most he'd gotten was a few kisses and a pity make-out, and even those had been lackluster. This was something new, this was something that was raising a sizzle in his blood. The Irishman's fingers were curling tighter in his shirt, forcing him closer until their jeans were rasping against one another.

"Stay" Murphy asked, breath dancing across his skin to bring up a crop of goosebumps. Glenn could feel himself start to panic, chests touching with each heave of breath. Stay here? With him? Alone in this tent? Now all he could remember was the first time he saw the man in his campsite, crouched beneath a bush and worried he'd get caught. He'd been so free, happy to be with his brother and content in his world. Now here that same man was...beneath him, devastated, injured, feeling abandoned and vulnerable.

Glenn wanted to protect him, rebuild him, make it better.

"I-I can't" Glenn admitted, offering his neck "I want to, really, but-"

"I haven't slept alone in years" Murphy confessed, something in his voice breaking the other man's heart "You want me to just lay here all night and stare at the wall?"

"Oh my God, fine" Glenn snapped, ignoring the way the Irishman grinned at him "Stop looking at me like that."

Murphy hid his grin by burrowing under the blankets and putting his face in the pillow, sighing happily, "Turn out that lamp, yeah?"

Glenn rolled his eyes, crawling over to the lantern and blowing softly into the glass. The flame went out and the tent was bathed in complete darkness. With this veil it was a little easier to strip off his pants, struggling to unbutton his shirt to leave him in his underwear and his ratty muscle shirt. He took several deep, calming breaths before he managed to work his way into Connor's side of the make-shift bed. The blankets were soft enough and the pillows actually held some plump. It was nicer than his sleeping bag. He rolled over and found the glint of the Irishman's eyes focused on him, still sharp even in the pitch black of night. It should've been creepy or unsettling, but the longer they stared at one another the more relaxed he became.

"You know" Glenn began, breaking the silence "We still need to talk about how the walkers listened to you."

Murphy shifted away and brought the blanket up higher, a protective gesture.

"Glenn, you promised not to say anything" Murphy rushed out, afraid he'd already said something "That was just – they're just - Connor doesn't want the others to know, he's afraid they'll-"

Glenn scooted closer and put his thumb on the man's lips, stopping his worried spill of words.

"We...we don't have to talk about it now" he was glad to see the other visibly relax "Just...soon, you know? It's kind of important, and not a lot of things are anymore."

Without bothering to reply, Murphy surged forward and wrapped his arms around his waist. Glenn refused to believe he yelped but there was no other explanation for the sound that came out of his mouth. He was soon covered in warm, humming Irishman with hair softer than he'd dared to think pressed up beneath his chin. The erection he'd fought off from earlier came back with a vengeance, he was thankful for the fold of blanket and clothes between them or else he'd be too terrified to stay still.

"You're soft" Murphy pressed his cheek to the other's collarbone "But you're takin' a bath tomorrow."

"Thanks" Glenn may have rolled his eyes but he was smiling, daring to lay his hand along the other's back "Comfy?"

"Very" he could already feel himself drifting off "You better not be gone when I wake up."

Glenn let his eyes fall shut, smile fading as he let himself relax, "No promises."

* * *

**uliga geuleul mid-eul su issna? = Can we trust him?**

**Of course we can. We trust him = mullon, ulineun hal su issseubnida. geuneun ulil gu**


	11. S1 - Ep3: Tell it to the Frogs Pt II

Murphy was sure he had more time. He was so sure that Daryl wouldn't be back for hours, and he'd been in denial that Connor would be back before then. He kept looking to the treeline for sign of blonde hair or hulking redneck but they never showed. And when the screaming started, he knew it was over.

There was no more running.

Murphy hurried the moment they heard the others call it as a walker, getting to the clearing in time to hear Daryl make an ass of himself by calling Dale out. Murphy looked between Shane and Rick, finding twin looks of exasperation.

"This is my deer!" Daryl declared, ripping his arrows out angrily "Conn and I tracked this for miles. S'not fair, that's what it is. What do you think? Do you think we can cut around this chewed-up part?"

"Daryl" Shane huffed from beneath his hat "I would not risk that."

"That's a damn shame" Daryl sighed, staring down at the deer for a moment longer before hefting up the line of game on his back "I got some squirrel – about a dozen or so. It'll have to do."

Daryl walked past Murphy, clapping him on the shoulder, "Get ready to stew 'em up, brat. We gotta make 'em stretch."

Murphy was about to snark back when the decapitated walker's head started snapping, blank eyes shifting around in it's grimy head. The thing was putrid but it was still a human.

"Father" Murphy began to pray, slipping the knife from his belt "Grant your child a smooth journey into your Heavenly embrace. Let his sins in death weigh less on his spirit than those in life."

Murphy tossed the knife with ease, the blade embedding itself deep within the skull. It stilled, dead.

"Amen" Daryl spat nastily, planting his boot on the corpse's forehead. He pulled the knife out, swiping it across the leg of his pants until it came away clean. Rick was staring at Murphy like he'd never seen anything like him before, it unnerved the redneck.

"Don't be fuckin' _eyein_' him" Daryl barked as he passed the new man, handing the knife off to the twin "Jesus. Ya'll act like manners went with down with the government."

Murphy smiled apologetically at the sheriff as his friend stormed into camp, "_That's_ Daryl Dixon."

The group followed the other closely, trailing after him in a nervous river. They broke apart and circled, looking between the Dixon and the sheriff with a mix of trepidation and curiosity.

"Murph, let's go!" Daryl threw over his shoulder, heading over to the skinning log he'd set up (knife dug into the wood and all) "Merle! Get your ugly ass out here too. I got us some squirrel! Gonna stew 'em up but it's your turn to skin."

"Daryl?" Shane called, dumping his hat and gun into the jeep before catching up to the man "Just hold up a sec, we need to talk for a minute."

"Mmm, in a sec" the redneck brushed him off, setting his crossbow against the firepit for cleaning later "Conn? Man, these things are fat, wanna take first pick?"

Daryl looked around when he didn't get a reply, squinting as he searched for the Irishman's face, "Connor?"

"Daryl" Shane beseeched "Just a minute."

"About what?" the hunter drawled, worry starting to creep up into his heart.

"There was an incident in Atlanta with your brother" Shane admitted, watching the man closely for any warning signs. Daryl hunched his shoulders a bit, glancing around the group once more to see all eyes were on him. All except the pair he wanted, the eyes that seemed be carved from sapphire and light. The ones he needed right now. Murphy was standing beside Glenn with a look that was trying to say a thousand things but his mouth was firmly shut, strangely silent. Connor wasn't exactly chatty but his darker twin always had something to say, to see him almost hiding behind Glenn was unnerving.

"He dead?" Daryl grunted, heart growing heavier.

Shane pursed his lips, "We're not sure."

The redneck curled his lip in a sneer, "He either is or he ain't."

The older man hesitated, "It's complicated."

"Hn" Daryl fingers were clenching restlessly at his sides "Where's Connor?"

"_That's_ why we're not sure" Shane sighed, letting it all out in one big breath.

"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it" Rick began, walking up to him with a determination he barely felt.

"Who _are_ you?" Daryl challenged.

"Rick Grimes."

"Rick _Grimes_" the redneck grit out with disgust "You got something you want to tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal" Rick explained calmly "He's still there."

"Hold on, let me process this" Daryl was starting to pace, bile rising in his throat the moment he realized his brother was dead "You're sayin' you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there!? What the fuck is wrong with you? What? You throw Conn over the side of a buildin' or somethin', you crazy fuck?"

Rick's jaw ticked, "No, Connor seems to be a good man, but I only saw him for a moment before he stormed off."

Daryl froze, "What you mean _stormed_ _off_?"

"The moment he heard what happened to Merle he stole a truck and went back to Atlanta to get him" the sheriff confessed "Said somethin' about it not being humane."

All thoughts of Merle flew out of his head, "He fuckin' what?"

"He chose to go" Shane stated "We couldn't stop him."

"Well what'd he take?" Daryl asked, gob-smacked at the news "Supplies? Guns?"

"Nothing" Murphy replied solemnly, bitterness underlying every word "No gun or ammo to speak of. He was out huntin' around and as soon as he heard Merle got left behind, he split."

"You left my blood to die and you let Conn go to Atlanta by himself?" Daryl screamed, spinning to give every single one of them a filthy glare "None of ya'll even offered to go with him, didja? You're so fuckin' grateful when it comes to this fuckin' _food_-"

Daryl slung the squirrel down angrily, ignoring the way the others flinched and backed away.

"-but if it comes to actually helpin' out, you freeze up" he accused, choked up as he realized his only real friend in this entire camp was probably out there getting eaten alive by walkers as they spoke. Rick caught his eyes, his heart filling up with a pure rage that drove out the worry. It was _this_ man's fault. Rick Grimes was the reason Merle got left behind, the reason Connor up and left without a proper weapon, the reason he didn't have the Irishman by his side right now.

"He's gonna die out there, you motherfucker!" Daryl roared, charging at the sheriff. Shane shoulder blocked him, knocking the redneck to the ground. Murphy surged forward but the Korean caught him around the waist, hauling him back with every bit of strength he had.

"Murphy, no!" Amy joined, arm joining Glenn's around the lithe Irishman's stomach.

"You fuckin' leave him alone!" Murphy threatened heatedly, pushing at their grip as he tried to get to the redneck "Don't you put your hands on 'im!"

Daryl unsheathed his knife and sprung to his feet, taking a swipe at the older man. Rick grabbed his arm and twisted, giving Shane the opportunity to grab him from behind.

"Daryl!" Murphy called, clawing red lines into his friends skin "Let me go, God damn it!"

"Just let them do this" Glenn begged, dragging him back with Amy as best he could "Think for a minute, Murph!"

"You best let me go!" Daryl demanded, grunting sharply when the sheriff put enough pressure on his wrist to force the blade from his hand.

"It's best if I don't" Shane retorted, getting a proper grip on his neck and head.

"Choke hold's illegal" the hunter struggled to get a breath in "Asshole."

"Fuck, Shane" the Irishman was close to begging "He won't hurt ya!"

Daryl managed to pry the meaty forearm off his windpipe long enough to scream back, "Shut up, mick!"

"Only if you fuckin' quit, you stupid hillbilly, you're gonna get killed!"

"I don't nee-" Daryl's air was cut off by the man behind him, wheezing sharply.

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic" Rick got down to the hunter's level, keeping his tone even "Do you think we can manage that? Hmm? Do you?"

Daryl curled his lips in a snarl, but the way he stopped moving told the two cops everything they needed to know. Shane tossed him down into the dirt, backing away defensively.

"What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others" Rick informed him, staying down on one knee "Now I heard you're closer to Connor. You're upset, I understand, and you think I don't know anything about anything right now. He went out to that Hell pit to get your brother because of _you_, I know that for sure."

Daryl spat into the dirt, still scowling, "Who the _fuck_ are you to talk about him?"

"Daryl..." Murphy stumbled as broke out of his friends grip, looking just as hurt and strained as the Dixon did "It's not his fault we left him, it's mine. T-Dog threw me the key and I...I-I didn't catch it. It fell...over the side of the building. Jesus, man, I'm sorry. I _tried_, you gotta believe me."

A look of betrayal crossed Daryl's face, gritting his teeth against the pain as he dropped his head between his shoulder blades. He snuffed and let his hands slide through the dirt before he got to his feet, an unease in his stomach and a heavy weight in his chest.

"If it's supposed to make me feel better, it don't" Daryl scoffed, walking away "Don't know why I expected better from you."

"Man!" Murphy went after him, only making it halfway there before he hissed loudly and stopped. He clutched his thigh, the flesh still tender and the small cut left threatening to rip the whole thing wide open if he ran like that again. Daryl whipped around, feet quickly taking him back.

"Murph?" Daryl whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder to stead him "The hell happened?"

"Nothin', I just..." Murphy took in a few deep breaths "Some glass got me, I burned it closed."

"The fuck?" Daryl exclaimed, reaching down to part the jean hole a bit to see the bandage more clearly.

"I chained the door to the roof with a padlock, it looked plenty strong against a few geeks at a time" the Irishman rushed out "That's why Connor left...he knew Merle would still be there."

Daryl tried to imagine his flesh and blood brother chained to a roof, alive and baking, but he couldn't. His heart wasn't in it, his thoughts straying to soft Gaelic singing and rare clove soap. It was hurting to know Merle was gone but his heart positively clenched when he thought of losing Connor. To never hear his laugh again, to never see the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners when he smiled, to never see him whoop Murphy in a fight again. What if the last time he saw Connor was out in the woods? That casual goodbye, that drink of water...what if those were his last memories? He'd never get to find out just what was between them, he'd never actually get up the nerve to kiss him – hell, he'd never get to have a big fallout with his brother because he decided Connor was worth more than Merle's opinion of him. He didn't even know if it'd come to that or more, he never would again. Maybe never.

Daryl sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes to find them wet. He quickly wiped them dry, mouth still pulled into a painful frown.

"Hell with all 'a ya'll!" Daryl declared, pulling away when the Irishman tried to touch him "Just tell me where he's headed so's I can go get him."

"I'm going back" Rick promised, despite Lori's protests.

Daryl didn't speak against it but he didn't look happy either. He walked past the sheriff, nearly bumping into Murphy again. The darker twin grabbed him hard by the arm, refusing to let go until their eyes met.

"I'm sorry" Murphy looked more broken than he ever had before "I-I can't save everyone. I tried, but none of them listened."

Daryl pawed the back of his head, touching their foreheads for just a moment before heading toward the fire pit for his crossbow.

Murphy took the forgiveness where he could get it.

**xXx**

"You're just gonna walk off?" Shane drawled as Rick approached "Just to hell with everybody else?"

There was a hurt tone in the man's voice. They used to be so close before Lori, inseparable from the playground to the bedroom. They'd put that part of them to rest a long time ago but the love was still there, maybe even a bit of that hardy lust. But Rick was married and there were rules, and that meant keeping their hands in check even while their words were not. Rick grabbed his best friend by the back of the neck, pulling him close enough for the curls of their hair to cling and their breath to mingle.

"I'm not sayin' to hell with anyone" Rick promised lowly "Not Lori or Carl. Least of all you. I just got ya'll back, I'm not going to leave you guys now."

"But that's exactly what you're doin' " Shane countered, missing the contact the moment after the man released him "She's hurt that you want to leave. We all are."

Rick started to back away toward the RV where the others were, "I'm comin' back."

"Rick! Damn it."

Shane started after him, watching the man's retreating back with a sense of dread, "I don't understand why you're doin' this. So could you just – could you throw me a bone here, man? Could you just tell me _why_? Why would you risk your life for a douche bag like Merle Dixon?"

"Hey" Daryl snapped "Choose your words more carefully."

"No, I did" Shane snarked "Douche bag's what I meant."

Daryl's glare was sharp but he didn't say another word about it.

"Merle Dixon" Shane spat vehemently "The guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst."

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me" Rick waved it off "_I_ can't let a man die of thirst - _me_. Thirst and exposure. We left him like an animal caught in a trap. That's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being."

"He's not worth even one of our lives" the other declared firmly "He's not worth goin' back for."

"But Connor _is_" Murphy cut in.

"Murphy" Shane gave him a look that pinned the Irishman, freezing his hot tongue, before looking back to his best friend "Connor will come back on his own. He's smart, he's resourceful, he can survive.

the only one worth havin'."

Lori tossed a chunk of wood in the fire, causing it to crackle loudly, "So you and Daryl, that's your big plan?"

Rick wet his lips, turning to silently beseech Glenn with just his eyes.

The runner pulled a sour face, "Oh, come on."

"You know the way. You've been there before – in and our, no problem. You said so yourself" Rick tried "It's not fair of me to ask – I know that – but I'd feel a lot better with you along."

"That's just great" Shane gruffed out "Now you're gonna risk three men, huh?"

"Four" T-Dog spoke up.

Daryl scoffed, "My day just gets better and better, don't it?"

"And I make five" Murphy said off-handedly, assuming his place was set.

"No!" Daryl barked abruptly, startling some of the others. He pointed a dirty arrow at the Irishman with a look that rivaled Shane's own, a hard determination setting in his brow. Murphy frowned, nose scrunching up as he glanced at Rick to see if he would stick up for him.

"Anyone else" Daryl intoned, slowly lowering the shaft "Anyone but you."

Hurt surged through Murphy's heart, "You can't keep me from going."

"Watch me" the redneck shot back, refusing to yield.

"I told you I _tried_ to save Merle, I didn't want to leave him!" the Irishman looked minutes from a real tantrum "If I'd stayed any longer, these fuckers would've left me behind!"

Daryl didn't even flinch at the harsh tone, "Nah, it ain't all that."

"Then what?" Murphy kicked up dirt, aiming toward the other man "What makes these others so much _God_ _damn_ better than me?!"

Daryl got up, coming at the other man so quickly he nearly stumbled back for fear of being hit. His hand shot out and grabbed Murphy's thigh, forcing a yelp out of his mouth.

"That's what I fuckin' thought" Daryl sighed through his nose "You're still hurt, numb-nuts. Think I'm gonna let you go like this? You need to stay still and keep that clean. Could get infected and I ain't gonna be the one who'll have to chop off the whole thing."

"Since when do you give a shit?" Murphy shoved him, but the redneck was fast. He grabbed his hands and tossed them down, settling those calloused palms across his arms to hold him still.

"If Conn's..." Daryl's throat swelled shut around the word 'dead', praying beyond hope it wasn't true "If your brother can't be here, I'm in charge of you. I have to keep you alive and you're pretty safe here."

Murphy's lips pursed, venom practically pouring from them, "I'm not a child and you are _not_ my brother."

"Right now you're what I got left!" Daryl confessed, snapping his mouth shut the moment he'd finished. Murphy's eyes went real big and his lips parted in stunned silence, seemingly as blindsided by the admittance as the rest of them. Daryl took a moment to take a few deep breaths, one hand drifting up to lay along the base of the Irishman's warm neck. He thumbed the pulse, reassuring himself that at least someone was still alive.

"So you're gonna stay here, get better, and just trust me to find Connor, alright?" Daryl asked lowly, the other nodded "I don't need shit right now, especially from you."

Murphy held out his hand. Daryl glanced down at it before dropping his own to clasp onto his wrist, fingers curling around the pulses of one another in something more than a handshake. More than a good-bye, more than words.

"Then you better be careful out there" Murphy finally said, sounding a little rough.

"Yeah?" Daryl's eyebrows raised skeptically "You gonna pray for me?"

The Irishman cracked a smile, "Always."

"Gettin' fuckin' sappy on me, leprechaun" Daryl let go of his hand to ruffle his dark hair, getting swatted at for the effort.

"Ya think?" Murphy dislodged his head from his grip "You're the one cryin' over your stupid brother."

Daryl lashed out and wrapped his meaty arm around his neck, catching him in a headlock. He dug his knuckles into the top of Murphy's head, getting him to squirm.

"Get off me, Squirrel Boy!"

Rick's brow furrowed up as he watched the two start to rough around, "Are they always like this?"

"I dunno" Shane watched Murphy push out of the redneck's grip and punch him in the chest playfully "The twins are...they're different, Rick."

Rick lowered his voice, their heads practically together to keep the others straining ears from catching them, "Different how?"

"They can still laugh" Shane's dark eyes went hazy for a moment "The camp's half in love with them. Carl's really startin' to look up to Connor."

"That's good, right?" Rick didn't see the problem "Where'd you find them? Were they in the city?"

"I didn't find 'em, Daryl did" the other sighed through his nose "They were out in the woods for weeks by themselves without us every knowing."

Daryl pushed Murphy down onto a log, sitting down on the one across from him, "Shut up and give me that water."

Murphy obeyed. The redneck used the water to clean the zombie/deer guts from his arrows, knowing eyes falling on the two cops.

"Sounds like you got two good men."

"And you want us to risk four more. But you're not just riskin' four men, you're risking all of us" Shane's heart broke when he saw his friend's guilty expression "Just know that, Rick. Come on, you saw that walker. It was here. It was _in_ _camp_. They're moving out of the cities. They come back, we need every able body we can get. We need 'em here. We need 'em to protect camp."

Rick flicked his thumb over his nose, "It seems to me what you really need are more guns."

"Right, more guns" Glenn awed, realizing just what they'd left behind in Atlanta.

"Wait" the darker cop was bewildered "What guns?"

"Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns" Rick rattled off "I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left."

Carl, who had been silent the whole time, finally looked to his dad, "I don't want you to go, Dad."

And as Rick defended his choices, Murphy knew he didn't want them to go either.

**xXx**

Rick was just walking up to Dale when Glenn found himself caught by the arm and dragged off from the others, seeing only their backs before he pulled into the foliage. He was forced up against some crates, a few low hanging branches cutting him off from the rest of the camp. Murphy's face was close to his, forearm braced across his chest as if the other was afraid he'd run away. The Irishman had that jittery, uncertain look to him – the kind he had before he'd gone out with Rick covered in walker guts.

"You gonna leave me too?" Murphy inquired lightly, a little bit of hurt shining through.

"Not forever" Glenn rolled his eyes "Dude, we'll seriously be back by tonight."

"Still" Murphy dropped his arm but didn't back up "I guess this is goodbye."

"It's more like a _later_" he assured him "So...you'll rest your leg while I'm gone, right?"

He didn't get an answer.

"Promise me you'll take it easy, at least?" Glenn whined, the other man was looking at everything but him "Dude, seriously-"

Strong fingers dug into his hair and held him in place, giving him no room to dodge Murphy as he got close. At first he thought the man was going to either hug him or hit him so he clenches his eyes shut and braced himself for the worst. He didn't see it coming. A soft pressure slanted over his mouth, he gasped and broke the contact. It was brief and light but it sent tingles down his shoulders and into his chest, twisting around his heart until it fluttered. Glenn's eyes popped open to find the Irishman still close, dark pink lips wet from the buss.

Glenn trembled, "Did you just-?"

"For luck" Murphy smiled weakly "To take somethin' of me with you."

Glenn licked his lips, chasing the taste, "Murph..."

"Give these to 'ma brother" Murphy slung the holster off his shoulder, two pistols strapped into it "When ya see him, I mean."

"Yeah" Glenn agreed hurriedly, nodding as he took it "Yeah, of course I will. But-"

Murphy walked off, leaving the Korean behind to collect his thoughts.

"Connor took my big bolt cutters with him" Dale informed Rick, arms crossed over his chest as he sent a pointed glare at T-Dog "I told them to bring _all_ my tools back and I'm left with next to nothing. You best bring them back this time."

"They're on the roof still" the black man nodded "I'll grab 'em for sure."

"You need that van, don't you?" Rick baited, the older man nodded "You can strip it down to the bare metal if you give me something to cut that chain with."

Dale gave him a doubtful look but he did flip open the lid of his toolbox, rifling through the devices until he came across a smaller set of clippers. It was more for branches and debris but it looked like it would do the trick with some work.

"Here" Dale dropped them into the sheriff's open hand "A loan."

"Thank you."

The air was cut through by the sharp horn of the van, the Dixon foot on the device impatient as all get out, "Come on, let's go!"

Shane and Rock gathered around the sheriff bag and talked ammo, heads together again. Daryl clung to on of the bars of the truck, leaning out the side to shoot Murphy a grin. They bumped fists, holding the contact longer than usual as a form of goodbye.

"Keep Glenn safe for me" Murphy demanded, catching sight of the Korean climbing into the side of the truck "He's still a wee-bit hopeless."

"Chinaman's faster than me most times" Daryl scoffed good-naturedly "Should be him watchin' my back with feet like that."

Rick climbed into the truck, flicking open the barrel of his Python to start loading it. Glenn was shifting restlessly in the seat beside him.

"You okay?" Rick asked "You look a bit pale around the edges."

"Just...nervous, I guess" Glenn half-lied, squinting out the wind shield "About everything."

"Don't be, I won't let anything happen to you out there" Rick peered closer, pulling back the plaid shirt the boy wore to reveal the straps of a black holster "I didn't take you for packin' pistols."

"They're Connor's" Glenn pulled the shirt back, flushed "I promised Murphy I'd give them to him."

Rick nodded, though a bit unsure, "Can you shoot one of those if you needed to?"

"Sure" now he was blatantly lying.

"Got any ammo?"

Glenn patted his pockets, sighing when he felt the unfamiliar square box, "He slipped it to me when I wasn't paying attention."

"So you and Murphy...you're close?" Rick picked, silently implying that the two of them were like Connor and Daryl.

"He's..." Glenn raked his teeth over his lower lip, revving up the van "He's the best friend I have right now. I trust him completely, if that's what you're asking."

"No harm meant" the sheriff conceded "He just seems very passionate."

The Korean ducked his head, hiding his smile, "More than you can imagine."

Murphy stood there dumbly as Daryl unlatched the door from the top, holding the rope in his hand that would pull it down. The Irishman looked so lost, so helpless, so he stopped.

"Murph" Daryl called softly, getting his attention "Don't you worry about us none. You think Conn is dumb enough to get cornered by a bunch of walkers?"

Murphy shook his head _no_, trying to smile but it came much harder this time.

"Ya think I am?"

He shook his head again.

"Then you fix that leg of yours and get ready to kick Conn's ass when he gets back" Daryl commanded "You hear me?"

"Yeah" Murphy croaked.

That was the best the redneck could hope for, "See ya tonight, man."

"See ya."

The door slammed shut between them, and in moments the vehicle pulled away. Murphy watched them go, keeping his eyes fixed on them until the van was nothing more than a splotch in the distance road. He still stood, even when they were completely gone, and watched. He wanted so much in that moment, too much for his poor heart to take. He wanted Connor back, he wanted Daryl and Glenn to stay, he wanted his Da to be here to tell him to quit being so stupid and buck up – but none of that was going to happen. Glenn was the only person he really trusted here and he couldn't bear to have him gone from his side. Daryl was creeping into his blood like a virus, sticking to him, and Connor was his truest companion in this world.

Murphy had never felt more alone than he did right then.

A small hand grasped his own, startling him out of his self pity. He looked down to find Carl staring up at him, smiling despite his father's absence.

"Are you worried?" Carl inquired.

"A bit" Murphy hushed, grasping his hand back.

"You shouldn't be" Carl stated, sounding as if he were sure of himself "Nothing's killed them so far. And Connor's out there too, so when they find him they'll be unstoppable. They'll come back with him, all of them."

Murphy knelt down, pressing a kiss to his hand. They shared a real smile, the boy's confidence feeding into his own.

" 'From the mouth of babes springs truth eternal', aye?" Murphy rattled off, squeezing his hand reassuringly "You're right. They'll be fine. Was dumb of me to worry like that, right?"

"It's not dumb" Carl hugged him then, a tight embrace that startled the Irishman "My mom hugs me when I'm worried, and it helps. Is it working?"

Murphy slowly hugged him back, eyes falling closed, "Yeah, boy-o...I think it is."

**xXx**

T-Dog and Daryl sat facing each other in the back of the van. The redneck cradled his crossbow in his arms protectively, eyes set hard on the other man's face.

"Man, you been glaring at me for miles" T-Dog broke "What? Just spit it out."

"I'm only gonna say this once" Daryl husked "Connor's blood is on your hands."

"You can't blame me for that" the black man huffed "Merle, yeah. But Connor went on his own."

"If they're not both fine, we're going to have a problem" Daryl's eyes were hard, burning into the other like a brand "If Conn's dead, you won't be far behind."

T-Dog's chest went tight as real fear shot through him. He'd never seen this Dixon so angry before. This was a cool, simmering rage – one that had the potential to do some real damage. None of them had ever given any real thought to Daryl having that kind of power in him. But now – was T-Dog found himself on the receiving end – he knew Dixon would kill them all if he lost Connor.

Daryl moved his crossbow to his shoulder, raising his chin a bit, "It's my only word on the matter."

Glenn stopped and parked the van, turning in his seat to check on them, "We walk from here."

The group piled out and started scanning the area, eyes sharp and guns raised. Daryl started looking for a stray arrow, maybe that knife, _something_ to show that Connor was around. But there was no sign of the archer.

"That's the truck Connor took" Glenn pointed out the truck farther up the tracks, the only one unraided and in working condition "He at least made it here."

Daryl laid his crossbow down and mounted his foot on the holder, pulling it back with a low _snitch_, "Then let's get goin' already."

**xXx**

"Murphy!"

Murphy slapped the bandage on his leg down, hiding what was left of the wound as Carl ran up to him. The boy had a bucket in his hand with a net tucked inside, happier than he had been earlier when his dad had left.

"Shane and I are going to go catch frogs" Murphy watched said man approach "Wanna come?"

"I think I'll pass on this trip around the pond" Murphy laughed, tapping the bucket playfully "But you catch a few for me."

Carl nodded, plodding away with muddy shoes and the promise of frogs legs. Shane stayed back, looking the Irishman over carefully as his smile faded and his hands went back to his thigh.

"You think it's getting' infected already?" Shane inquired, dropping to his knee to get a look.

Murphy covered it defensively, "I'm fine. I'm just tired is all. Didn't sleep much last night."

"I saw Glenn come out 'a your tent this morning" he didn't dare meet the other's eyes "That have anythin' to do with it?"

"He was takin' care of my leg, we fell asleep talkin' is all" Murphy defended "Not that it's your business."

"Not anyone's business but yours" Shane parroted, hesitating before reaching out and laying his hand across his other thigh "How about you go take a rest? I'll keep an ear on you, make sure no one's botherin' you."

"I don't need a _nap_" Murphy spat the word like it left him with a bad taste "I'm not a kid, man."

"But you're tired" Shane tightened his grip, fingertips digging into the worn denim "Go on."

Murphy got to his feet, still looking sour, "Okay. But someone come wake me up in a bit. I still got wood to chop. I can't be sleepin' the whole day away."

"I will" Shane promised, standing to find himself almost nose to nose with the man "You don't have to worry."

"Between you, Lori, and Grimes?" Murphy raised his brows knowingly when the older man's shoulders went tense "I'll be the judge of when to worry."

Shane let him walk away. His hands were balled at his sides and his breath was coming tight but he reigned in his anger. That little shit. He knew, he knew everything. Murphy knew about him and Lori, he knew Rick and Lori were married, and he most likely knew about Rick and him. He knew all about their twisted little love triangle.

Fuck.

**xXx**

The moment T-Dog managed to cut the chain with those dinky cutters, Daryl lashed out and kicked open the door.

"Merle!" Daryl called, rushing onto the roof without looking for walkers "Merle!"

Daryl scanned the roof but there was no signs of his brother. He found the pipe they'd talked about and dropped down to it, wincing when he saw the bloody handcuffs still attached to it. He grabbed the broken circle, running his thumb over the clean-cut mark along the edge. Tool marks, they'd been cut clean off. He jumped to his feet, starting to pace and look around wildly. Panic seized his heart in a tight fist, mouth pulled painfully as he tried not to wail. Connor? Where the fuck was Connor? He was here, he could see it, the evidence was everywhere.

"Conn!" Daryl's voice cracked horribly, crossbow clattering onto the roof "_Connor_!"


	12. Daryl's Dream II

**This dream takes place one week before Episode 3 started, so BEFORE the group went back to Atlanta to look for Merle. I know, confusing, but it's a mini-series withing a story.**

* * *

_**One Week Ago - Before the Trip to Atlanta**_

Daryl inhaled deeply, awaking when he smelled bacon. His eyes fluttered open and he realized he was back in that room, the one filled with his things. The covers were clinging to his bare limbs, curled around his body like his absent lover should've been. He hadn't expected to be here again let alone with all the same details, down to the scatter of clothes on the floor. Daryl edged out of bed, smiling to himself when the wooden floor chilled his feet. This place was too real, even the sheets smelled like male and too-long-without-a-wash. He grabbed a pillow on the other side and pulled it to his face, inhaling deeply to catch a whiff of that clover soap the twins used.

That _Connor_ used.

Daryl snagged a pair of boxers off the floor and tugged them up his legs, covering his modesty enough to go roaming outside. He had no idea what would be beyond that door or even if there _was_ anything out there. What if this world stopped at the edge of the doorway? What if it just cut out – like a candle? Without any fear, Daryl went out into the hall and followed his nose. He passed a few doors on his way through; a bathroom, a living room, some kind of half-and-half room. One half was filled with stacks of fiction books and car manuals, dried pelts shoved into text books as makeshift bookmarks. The other half held stacks of paint cans and miscellaneous art supplies. There were a few drying paintings propped against the far wall, multi-colored sceneries shining and unfinished on the canvas. They were really good. Who the hell in this house could paint?

The next door he came across was decorated with angry knife-scratches, little figures eating and nipping at one another. Snakes, lizards, even clawed wendigos with hungry jaws gathering at the bottom. With the foreign, blocky symbols mixed in he assumed it was Murphy and Glenn's room.

So they really were a couple. At least here in this world.

Daryl finally found the kitchen, the sizzle of bacon audible now. Connor was in there dressed in only a pair of ratty sweatpants that barely clung to his hips. Steam billowed up in front of him, fogging up the window above the sink. The Irishman seemed oblivious to him, shaking the pan a bit before adding a few raw slices. The hunter felt a little daring and came up behind the other, putting his hands on the blonde's waist. He was a little softer than usual, well fed and less running-hardened. Dixon sighed to himself, fingers flexing as he got used to the feeling. It was equally familiar and foreign.

"You're gonna have to get up a bit earlier in the mornin' to scare me" Connor drawled "Nice try, though."

"Wasn't tryin' to scare you" Daryl slowly wrapped his arms around him, pressing up against him slowly (as if asking for permission) "Just testin' the waters."

Daryl rubbed his face into the man's neck, savoring the warm flesh beneath his lips, "Starvin'."

"Here" Connor plucked a piece of meat out of the pan, holding it over his shoulder for the other to taste "Careful, it's hot."

Daryl carefully took the offered bite, the flavor bleeding across his tongue. It was better than anything he'd tasted in months. He took it all and lapped at the Irishman's fingers, getting every last bit of grease. The man in his arms shivered, goosebumps cropping up across his bare shoulder blades at the drag of his tongue. It inspired a lust within the redneck that felt so normal here in this strange place but so wrong out in the cold light of day.

"Coffee's on" Connor informed him, tilting his head to give the other more room to kiss as he stirred up the remaining bacon "Glenn brought in the paper. Had 'im put it on the table for you."

"Is that what I do?" Daryl asked, nose buried deep in the blonde spikes "Read the paper and drink coffee?"

"Every morning since we moved in" Connor laughed, pushing into him playfully "Man, you must've had a rough night. Those fuckin' nightmares, right? Went away after you let loose though, didn't they?"

The Irishman's tone dropped, fingers dancing across his lover's bare forearm, "I'm gonna start lettin' you fuck me like you did last night all the time if it gets you to sleep that well."

Daryl flushed darkly, blood shooting south at the implication of where his last dream had left off. Fuck, he'd missed it. He held the blonde tighter, dropping innocent kisses into his hair to contrast his real intentions. It was his dream and he could do what he wanted, he knew he could bend the man over right now and he'd love every second of it. He could get this Connor to sing, he could render him breathless with sheer dream power alone. But did he really want that for his dream partner? Could he really treat any version of his little mick so carelessly?

Daryl pressed a kiss into the curve of his jaw and the man sighed sweetly.

No, no he couldn't.

The grease crackled out of the pan, jumping up to spatter across the tattoo of _Annabelle_ over his heart. Connor jumped and gave a little yelp of pain, pushing back into the Dixon as if to get away from it. Daryl quickly grabbed the nearest hand towel and rubbed his hand over the spot, trying to soothe the ache away.

"Shit, you okay?" Daryl cursed, dropping the rag to massage the stinging skin with his thumb instead "You need some ice?"

"I'm fine, D" Connor inquired, confused at the redneck's sudden worry "It's just grease."

"I just don't want anythin' to hurt you" Daryl whispered into his pulse point, keeping his palm flat over the other's heart "I want you safe."

"I am safe" Connor turned his head long enough to have their nose buss and their lips to meet, but only for a tender moment "Go sit down. I'll bring you some food."

Daryl shook his head, pressing his face into the back of the blonde's neck to get every drop of scent he could. He could still see down the Irishman's body and at the end of them laid strong, sure hands. Golden skin pulled taut across bones and muscle, calluses ignored against the softness of the rest of him. Ink did nothing to hide the strength and skill of those digits. The way he fit into his arms...the slide of their flesh...

It was like heaven.

"I think I'll just stay right here for a bit" Daryl breathed, soaking in the sensations for as long as he could. Connor reached back and threaded his fingers through the Dixon's hair, the older man practically purring under the attention.

"I don't want to go back" Daryl clenched his eyes shut, feeling himself slipping "I wanna stay here."

"I'm here for you" Connor's voice started fading, he grabbed him even harder "I'm here."

**xXx**

"I'm here, it's okay."

Daryl jerked back as he realized the hands in his hair were real. But they weren't like Merle's, grasping and harsh, these were soothing and sweet. It was dark, why was it dark? Where was he? He was on top of the RV, morning was starting to break, and it was the end of his shift.

Connor was standing over him with a smile, glad to see he was find.

"You were pretty far gone there" Connor informed him, slowly pulling away "Worried me a bit. Got nightmares or somethin'?"

"_Or somethin_' " Daryl echoed, clearing his throat to get some of the hoarseness out of it "I fuckin' fell asleep, didn't I? Shit!"

"I've been watchin' since you fell asleep" Connor assured him quickly, keeping the redneck from freaking out "I was gonna join ya but you passed out. Didn't want Shane 'ta think I was goin' easy on you so I waited to wake you. Should I have? Seemed to be pretty intense in that mind 'o yours."

"Nah" the Dixon tipped his head back, fingers flexing to remember the feeling of the Irishman's ribs under them " 'M glad you let me sleep. I needed it."

"Go get some real sleep" Connor urged "I can handle it here."

"I'm good, I can stay."

The blonde rolled his eyes, "Shut the fuck up and get in your tent."

Daryl couldn't find it in him to protest so he obeyed, hiding his smile when the man guided him to the ladder. He should've felt bad about having sex dreams about his best friend but - like most things involving Connor - he couldn't say no. In those dreams he was his, they were together, and that small amount of time was worth more to him than gold. Besides, they just came to him - he didn't ask for them. And he wasn't about to feel guilty for something he couldn't control.

He had plenty of reasons to be ashamed of himself, and he wasn't going to let dream-Connor become one of them.

* * *

**Read and review, I need it like the air I breathe**


	13. The Thugs II

**This is part two of the flashback series "The Thugs", showing just what happened to the twins a few months before they met the group**

* * *

Hours later, the lights flicked on. It was sudden and harsh, waking the twins from their darkness-induced slumber. They jerked apart, practically crawling up the wall as they struggled to adjust their eyes and see just who had come into the room. It was one man, that bastard leader, the one with the dark skin and the scar right down through his face. He was just standing there staring at them, meaty arms crossed over his chest like he hadn't just kidnapped them.

"This is how they do it in the woods, huh?" Connor rubbed his palm across his eyes, getting the last of the grit out "Pretty shitty southern hospitality, if you ask me."

Men started to trickle in from behind him, ones armed to the boot straps with guns and knives strapped to their waists. Each one rougher than the next, every one of them with a sickly grin on their face like they were about to catch the canary.

"Such good fortune to come across the two of you" the leader chuckle through his teeth "We wore out our last two whores just last week. The boys were gettin' antsy."

"Whores?" Murphy croaked, horrified.

"A rather handsome boy and his pretty sister" the leader clicked his tongue "Shame they broke so fast. But there's just so many of us, a man has his needs. And unfortunately I have the responsibility of _all_ these men. Surely you can understand my dilemma?"

"Bunch of men hanging around in the middle of nowhere?" Connor got to his feet, adrenaline pulsing through his chest "Yeah, I'm startin' to get it."

The twins lashed out like lions, taking two men down easily enough by the waist. Murphy started knocking heads but his lighter twin's intentions were a bit more savage, a bit more thorough. He stole a knife and started slashing, cutting up tendons until three of the men couldn't walk (Achilles heels) and two had lost all use of their hands.

"Hey!" the leader, mentally slapped with the title _Scar_, surged forward and clocked the blonde squarely in the jaw. Connor reeled only to be grabbed by the collar and slammed him against the wall "You can put up a fight. In fact, I encourage it, I like my prey all feisty. But you start killin' my men and I'm gonna have to get rough with ya."

Connor spat blood right in the man's face, coating his eyes and cheeks in scarlet. Scar growled and swiped his glove across his skin, wiping away the droplets with a sneer of disgust.

"You filthy bitch" Scar didn't dare release him, the iron seeping into his skin changing his mind "We won't start with you, oh no. I think there's something special for you we could do."

Scar tossed him aside, the blonde skimmed across the cement like a sack, "It's Plan B, boys!"

Murphy whipped around, ready to defend his brother, only to get cracked upside the head with a well-timed bat. He went dizzy and lost his footing, sprawling on the floor in a sad imitation of his twin. He tried to push himself back up but a boot dug into the small of his back, driving him back down and knocking some of the wind out of him.

"Conn?" Murphy coughed out, palms scraping against the cement "Connor! What are you doin' to him?!"

Three men ganged up on the blonde Irishman. One flanked him, wrapping an arm around his neck in a sloppy choke hold. The other two grabbed at his kicking legs and thrashing arms, holding him as still as they could as a fourth, skinnier man approached with a thin syringe filled with a murky liquid.

"Fuckin' get away from me with that!" Connor bucked, screaming when one of the man put a grease-smeared palm over his mouth. The scrawny man knelt down and pulled open his jeans, rucking them down until the top part of his thigh was revealed. Without preamble the man jammed it in, pushing the plunger to send the unknown concoction straight into his artery. It burned like true fire, coursing up through his body until it seared his chest. The men dragged Connor back against the wall, forcing him to sit against it as they tried to snick handcuffs onto him. He kicked up and nearly dislocated one man's shoulder, sending him sprawling onto the floor. He threw a punch but he lost his strength halfway through, knuckles barely skimming the thug's jaw. He gaped at his twin, numbness seeping into the bulge of his muscles.

"Brother?" Murphy called, confused.

"I-" Connor flexed his hands, the movements slower than he would've liked. His head felt heavy and the tips of his fingers were tingling, the feeling only increasing as the seconds went by. He looked to Murphy helplessly, his strength leaving him with each pulse of his blood.

"We only got a bit of this left" the skinny man grinned, wiggling the empty plunger out of his muscle "You're something special to get it."

Connor brought his heel back and cracked the guy in the face, smashing his nose. The other two men dragged him against the wall again, pinning his hands in his lap easily enough to get the handcuffs on him. His legs were sprawled out in front of him, vulnerable and next to useless. Two meaty hands weighed him down on each shoulder, keeping him upright even as his head lolled forward. Everything was going fuzzy at the edges, blurring and smudging until even his tongue felt heavy.

"Connor!" Murphy jammed his elbow into the knee of the man holding him down, wiggling free and crawling across the floor. He lunged for his twin, barely touching his foot before he was grabbed by several sets of hands and dragged back. He started to sit up, to twist around to face his attackers, but all he saw was metallic silver before his head whipped back. The bat rang as it bounced off his skull, jarring him so badly he saw spots more than he saw ceiling. It was one of those thin, hollow things that didn't have the decency to knock him out. Someone grabbed him by the back of the neck and put him on his feet, pushing him forward until his thighs smacked against the desk in the middle of the room.

"Hey, fuck you!" Murphy swung blindly, knuckles aimed for cheek, but to no avail. He was slammed down for his effort, catching the table's edge across his temple. He clawed and pushed at the desk but they had him pinned good, keeping him in place with his chest spread out across the smooth wooden surface. Something yielded under his fingernails, too smooth to be splinters. He blinked a few times to get a good look, flexing his fingers up to catch the light. It was dark brown, like mud...

Like old, dried blood.

Fresh, cherry drops fell onto the worn varnish to mingle with the muddy stripes across the desk. His head was bleeding, he could feel the wetness soak into his hair and creep down his jaw. Sticky, scarlet lines he couldn't see but could feel the itch of. Who else had died here? What had they done to those people to make them bleed in these thick stripes? What were they going to do to him?

Beads swung in front of his eyes. He tilted his head up, squinting up at the grinning leader with that horrible scar. The man was holding his rosary in front of him, dangling it just in his eyesight.

"I think we know what you deserve" Scar twisted up the beads, meaty fist threatening to shatter them "Fix 'im up."

Those damned ropes Murphy had discovered earlier were pulled out from beneath the table, barbed bits shining dully in the gritty light. His wrists were seized and, though he resisted every second of the way, and were pulled to the corners of the desk. Someone kicked his legs apart, hands creeping around his waist to pull at the fly of his jeans.

"You rat sons-of-bitches" Murphy slurred through the throb in his head, struggling as someone he couldn't see pulled his jeans chill of the room ate at his skin, the only warmth he got was from the grimy hands that pawed at him like he was meat.

"Don't worry, holy man" Scar laughed lowly, letting the beads clatter against the desk "It's just a taste of Jesus's pain, ain't it?"

"No!" the darker twin pulled back on his arms, but they were too strong "You're sick, all of ya! Yer all gonna burn for this, I swear it!"

"Listen to 'im" one of the men laughed "Like we already ain't in Hell."

"Such pretty little threats" Scar mocked "Tie 'im."

The damned lackies obeyed like dogs, wrapping their meaty fingers tight around his wrists to keep them in place while they started wrapping the barbed wire around him. They started at the base of his elbows, curling it up so the barbs dug into the soft underbelly of his arms. It only started to really hurt when they coiled it several times around his wrists, pulling tighter and tighter each time until the points sunk completely into his flesh. Murphy hissed loudly, jerking violently as they started to thread the metal wire through his fingers. The edges tore up the digits, blood seeping up from every new cut.

"Leave his legs free" the leader commanded, tossing the rosary aside "He'll be movin' around a lot."

Murphy turned his head, finding his brother's dazed eyes barely on him, "Connor!"

Connor braced his hands on the floor, pushing himself forward only to get slammed back against the wall. He was too slow and dull to fight them properly. All he could do was watch as the thugs wrapped his brother's arms up in barbwire, releasing him only to laugh when he struggled and cut himself deeper. He watched his brother's blood bubble and spill down his hands and over the table, trickling down the edge to puddle on the floor.

"Murph" Connor huffed, chest heaving as he tried to fight off the drug "Don't...don't touch 'im..."

The leader glanced at him, frowning, "Make sure he watches."

One of the men holding him grabbed his hair, picking his head up so he eyes stayed right on his distressed brother, "No, no, pretty. You heard him. Get ready, cause you're next."

* * *

**I'm so tired. I got sick twice in one break, and I'm sorry for not writing any. I'm going to work on a chapter of the Avengers story next, because I've neglected it for so long. Ah! My head is so stuffy, I feel like I'm stuffed with cotton. AND I start work again tommorrow. Thankfully for you guys that means more writing because I won't be playing Skyrim.**

**YES, yes, Skyrim. That's why I haven't been writing and I'm sorry for that too.**

**Review and continue the love, I need it to help me battle this cold**


	14. Ignore This - Just an author update

**First off, DON'T KILL ME! *ducks and covers* This isn't an update. **

**I just finished my Avenger fic so now I'm coming back to this fic. I'm sorry to leave you guys hanging for so long. I promise, I'm on it now. I'm already 3 pages into the next chapter and it's going to be LONG and ANGSTY. Yes, my loves, it's going to end in the biggest cliffhanger ever and I promise you'll like it. If you've liked the rest of the story, you'll then love it. Hang on, don't give up on me, BELIEVE IN THE PLAN!**

**See you later, duckies**

**Love and Rockets,**

_Emono_


	15. Season 1 - Episode 4: Vatos

**I went back and edited all the chapters. I didn't really change any content, just mended a few pieces of dialogue that were wrong and changed "Walkers" to "walkers" and "Con" to "Conn". That's about it, I think.**

* * *

Despite his protest, a nap sounded great.

Murphy no sooner closed his eyes before he felt himself falling, falling, down-down-down until the bedroll disappeared from beneath him to be replaced with the rough edge of stone.

_He was in a cave, the tent and the camp and the world long gone. It was pitch black, the damp chill of the place seeping deep into his flesh until he couldn't stop shivering. Far above his head was a circle of light, as if he'd fallen through the ceiling. The boulder he laid on was raised feet above the ground, barely a vantage point. Terror fluttered through his veins, balling up in his gut until he was panting for a full breath._

_The shadows started to move, forming and shaping until they became the disgusting figures of half-rotted walkers. They were creeping closer, the exposed bones of their feet scraping loudly against the ground. There was murder in their eyes._

"_Help!" Murphy called up at the circle of light "Somebody, please!"_

_The walkers moaned and parted, three hunched figures daring to come closer. Murphy drew in his legs, gasping sharply as the things hit the light and exposed themselves. The first to touch the rock had a bloody baseball cap on, the usually almond eyes red and blood crusted. The second, broader than the others, had a tattered wife beater clinging to it's exposed ribs and scarred torso. The third's hair was matted and it's chest half-exposed, the rosary around it's neck clinging to a wet spot on it's lungs. Their mouths were rotten and stained, the flesh on their fingers cut up from digging through living victims. _

_They were horrifying. And they were coming right at him. _

_Tears started streaming down Murphy's face as he realized they were his friends and his brother. They were turned, reduced to mindless growling zombies that struggled to crawl their way up the rock. By the time they grabbed his legs he was sobbing, kicking at their grip and trying to pry their fingers off. They were impossibly strong, forcing him flat on his back until he was pressed hard into the boulder. Daryl's forearm kept him in place while one of Glenn's hand clawed through his hair, yanking his head back to expose the bare line of his throat. _

_Connor started to crawl on top of him, staring at him with cloudy eyes like he was nothing more than something to chew. His brother's jaw fell open, head dipping so his slimy tongue ran over his pulse. _

"_I-It's me" Murphy rasped, eyes darting between the three of them. He was looking for sympathy but all he found was his own reflection and vacant death._

"_It's your brother" he pleaded, the fingers in his hair twisting harder as teethe started to close in on his neck "It's Murphy! Guys, come on, it's me!"_

_There was only growling in reply._

"_Please, it's me! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

**xXx**

Shane stood up from his crouch, head tilting as he tried to decipher what he was hearing. It sounded kind of like-

Shane paled, starting to run toward the twins' area. It was screaming, there was no doubt. He unsheathed his knife and ripped back the tent flap, looking for the walker that was causing the distress. There was none. All he found was Murphy tangled up in the blankets of his bedroll, face scrunched up and covered in sweat. He arched up almost violently, trying to writhe away from something that wasn't actually there.

Murphy sat up and started to scream again. Shane didn't waste the opportunity to slide into bed with him, coming up behind him and clamping a hand down onto his gaping mouth. He pulled the Irishman against his chest and smothered his scream. Murphy didn't even grab at him. He was helpless.

"You're fine, Murphy, you're safe" Shane assured him as gently as he could "Calm down, boy, you're gonna scare the entire camp."

Murphy started whining, squirming harder against him.. Shane closed his eyes and tried to fight off the sensation of the Irishman bare skin pushing back against him. Murphy's flesh was fire hot. He smelled like musk and pure frightened male, whatever was in his head must've been killing him. Murphy dropped his head onto his shoulder, shaking horribly as he stopped making noise and came out of the dream.

Shane pressed his lips against his ear, "Calm down."

It was a sinful, horrible indulgence but he couldn't help but steal it now.

Murphy slumped, dead asleep once more. Shane eased him down onto the sleeping bag, hands slipping too slowly off the man's body. The tent flap was pushed open again, Lori came inside. Her gaze darted between the two of them, noting how her ex-bed warmer was eyeing the Irishman.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"Bad dream is all" Shane ran a hand down his thigh, trying to hide his sweaty palms "I talked him out of it."

"Must've been one hell of a dream."

"Yeah" he sighed heavily "Must have."

**xXx**

The roof was empty, abandoned. The wind whipped across it, stinging their cheeks briefly. It was Rick who asked the question everyone wanted to say.

"Where are they?"

Daryl was breathing hard through his nose, staring at the blood-crusted handcuffs like they'd give him all the answers. Every time he blinked all he could see was his brother struggling against the bindings or Connor straining to get him free. The evidence was all around them but he was blind to it, rage laying a heavy red veil over his eyes. There wasn't a lot of blood but there was enough for a walker attack, enough to to have his brother or his friend turned.

Selfishly consumed, Daryl lugged his crossbow around and pointed it at T-Dog's face, "This is your fault!"

There was a sharp click before the cool barrel of a gun pressed above his eye, digging into the skin warningly. He held fast, the crossbow a powerful weight in his hands, T-Dog's frightened stare coming at him from down the sights. He could do it. One squeeze and he'd be dead.

"I won't hesitate" Rick stated, a new steel to his voice "I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

Daryl dropped his weapon to his side, lips trembling as he tried to hold back another strangled cry. His face was drawn in grief, scared to death he'd never see them again. His brother, his kin, the one who he bailed out of jail and got drunk with. And Connor, his...his...

_Rays poured around his figure, outlining him in gold. Blonde hair glowed like a halo, the curve of his bow cutting through the sun in an arch. _

Daryl desperately tried to get himself together. He sucked in a few sharp breaths and blinked hard to drive out the images of chomping walkers and mangled bodies. He glared at T-Dog but only for a moment, trying to push it down into his gullet for another time. Connor wouldn't want him to lose his head. Merle would've knocked his head off a tree for even _waiting_ this long to start tracking.

"Stop...stop movin' " Daryl drawled, dragging the back of his hand over his eyes "Everyone stop movin' around!"

Everyone froze on his command, Rick dropped his gun and clicked the safety back on. Daryl peered down at the ground more carefully now, walking in a slow half circle around the pipes to see what kind of marks were left from whatever happened. There were boot marks in the gravel, imprints leading to the edge.

"Do you ever use that ladder?"

Glenn's brow furrowed, he wasn't sure what he was talking about. T-Dog found the box of tools off to the side and, keeping an eye on the redneck, started gathering them up into their box.

"That ladder over there" Daryl lazily pointed his crossbow at it "On the side."

"No, never" Glenn admitted "It leads to a fire escape but it doesn't go all the way down."

Daryl walked over and the others followed. He leaned over the side and found a few walkers milling around down in the alley. There were streaks on the road, one of the dumpsters had obviously been moved. Connor must've used it to get up onto the broken ladder. Rick and Glenn came up on either side of him, trying to see what he saw.

"He came through that alley?" Rick whistled lowly "He has some balls. There must be a dozen walkers down there."

"Must'a just filled up" Daryl grunted "They didn't go back down this way."

Glenn tried to find that information in the clues but couldn't, "How do you know that?"

"Dust from the roof" the redneck pointed down to the two sets of prints "They go down to that open window but no further. There's only one set of prints on the dumpster. They went back inside."

Daryl strapped his crossbow on his back and braced his hands on the side, "Follow me."

They climbed down one by one, being as quiet as they could, carefully slipping through the window. There were boot prints along the floor but they disappeared through the open doorway, fading out as the dust wore off.

"Let's hope they left a trail" he muttered under his breath, bringing his crossbow up to his cheek.

Weapons raised and senses high, they made their way into the hallway. They tensed when they saw two bodies on the floor but on closer inspection they discovered them to be walkers with perfect arrow-sized holes in their foreheads. Daryl dropped down to a crouch beside one, reaching out to gingerly run his finger along the smooth edge of the fatal wound.

"Good job, Conn" the hunter murmured fondly before speaking up "These are only a few hours old. Probably shot 'em when it was dark."

He rose to his feet and led them further in, crossbow raised. They came across an employee area and filed inside, though the redneck had no sooner turned the corner before their runner was ducking his head around him to see.

"Guys" Glenn piped up, spotting broken glass "They must've broken a window to get out."

"One of 'em must've" T-Dog intoned, seeing it first.

"Get back!" Daryl hissed, grabbing the boy by the collar and shoving him behind him. Glenn was about to protest when he saw the bulk of the room, barely biting back a scream when he noticed the walkers. There were about six of them standing in a circle, two of them kneeling down on either side of a limp body. They were running their rotting hands over the fallen man, leaning over him, and (by the wet sniffing noises) smelling him.

"Jesus."

Rick went for his gun.

"Don't you fire in here" Daryl warned, aiming carefully "Get somethin' blunt."

T-Dog slowly put down the tool box and dug inside, pulling out a fat monkey wrench. Rick leaned down, eyes on the walkers, and grabbed a piece of blood spattered plywood off the floor.

"A-Are they eating him?" Glenn's words trembled into a question, his voice attracting the Walkers attention. The blood-crusted things started to growl before they came at them full-speed. T-Dog took him head-on but Daryl stood back, taking out two within the first few seconds. They were coming hard, Rick had barely bashed in the head of one before another was grabbing at him. Glenn backed himself into a corner, desperately looking around for a weapon. A male, broad-shoulder walker charged at him. He panicked and kicked, catching it in the chest, but it was the arrow through it's head that stopped it. The walker gurgled wetly before falling, the top of his matted head almost touching the Korean's shoes. Glenn put a hand over his heart and sighed in relief, the organ fluttering strongly under his palm. He tried to thank Daryl but the man was already crossing the room.

Daryl dropped his crossbow and fell to his knees, heart swelling painfully in the cage of his ribs at the sight before him. Connor was slathered in blood, filth streaking his skin in stripes from the walkers greedy hands. There were no obvious bites or scratches but he couldn't be too careful.

"Conn?" he tried but he could barely breath and it came out raspy. He lifted Connor's head and carefully cradled it in his lap, stroking through the blonde hair briefly before checking his pulse. It was there, just a shade on the weak side. Daryl inspected the head wound next, brushing aside his hair to find the line of the gash. It started just at the edge of his forehead and disappeared into the golden mess. The Irishman's arrows were scattered all over the floor along with some batteries, his bow laying a few feet away.

"Is he alive?" Glenn questioned, coming closer.

"Yeah" Daryl assured him, allowing his palm to cradle the curve of the other man's head.

"Is he bitten?" Rick knelt down, reaching out to start looking.

"You stay away from him!" Daryl barked loudly, smacking his hand away "Don't you touch 'im!"

"He's probably dead" T-Dog scoffed "Geeks don't eat dead meat."

The redneck shot him a filthy look but snapped his jaw shut, trying to keep his temper in check for once.

"You check him" Rick urged "We have to know. We can't risk it."

"Fine."

Daryl laid Connor's head down on the floor again. Being as gentle as he could, he started checking down his arms and along his shoulders. After running his hands down his legs looking for any tears in the material, he fisted his hand in his shirt and pulled up. He tried to ignore the firm muscles and the lines of his hips, focusing on the bruises blooming up on his flesh that looked like they'd been made with something flat and blunt.

There were no bites.

"You satisfied?" Daryl spat.

The sheriff nodded.

Daryl leaned over Connor, bracing his arm on the ground above the blonde's head to shield him from the others. He reached up to cupped his cheek, thumb running along his jaw and catching on the stubble.

"Connor? You gotta wake up, man" he begged quietly "Shit, Clover, come on."

Connor whined suddenly. Slowly, as if struggling, the hunter's arm rose up off the ground and his fingers curled around the other's arm. His grip was weak but it was the best thing the Dixon had felt all day. The younger man's lashes fluttered against his cheek, blue eyes peaking for just a moment.

"That's it, baby, come on."

Daryl's shoulders went stiff as the endearment fell from his lips without his permission. He could feel his cheeks burning as he glanced around at the others to see if they'd heard him. Rick was looking at him strangely, brow pinched.

"D-Daryl?" the watery tone got him straight in the chest. Daryl ran a hand through his hair again, a silent assurance that he was alright. Connor braced his palms flat on the floor and tried to sit up by himself, arms trembling under the strain.

"Whoa" Daryl hurried to help him sit up, moving out of his way and bracing his forearm on the blond's back.

"Easy now" Rick hushed, putting a hand on his back to support him. Connor's head lolled to the side at the sound of the sheriff's voice, brows knitting as he tried to figure out who he was in his groggy state.

"He's been drugged or somethin' " Daryl felt for the blonde's pulse again, stronger now but still beating out a sluggish rhythm "No way a smack to the head did this to him."

"Who did this?" Rick gave him a light smack to the face "Connor? Can you hear me?"

"Merle" the Irishman growled out.

"That fuck" Daryl scowled in disgust "My brother don't care for them much. Probably got pissed at getting' saved and struck him when his back was turned."

Connor struggled for a few moments before he managed to crack his eyes open, gasping softly. His hand came up and touched Rick's face, grabbing the side of it and pressing his thumb just under his eye. Rick flinched but he didn't pull away, not even when the Irishman tilted his head up to get a better look at him. Even dazed Connor had a biting stare.

"Connor" Daryl's own gaze danced between the two of them, a frown pulling his lips "What the hell?"

"Know those eyes" Connor seemed to be slipping back to sleep "Was waitin'..."

Daryl could feel the rage bubbling up beneath his heart, threatening to choke him. What the fuck was Connor doing? _He_ was the one who came for him, _he_ was the one who saved him from the walkers, _he_ was the one who woke him up. Connor didn't even know the fucking sheriff!

"Hey!" Daryl grabbed him by the collar and pulling him away, striking him across the face with the back of his hand "You fuckin' look at me!"

Connor shot up, eyes clenched shut but his face more awake as he clutched his cheek.

"I came lookin' for you and you're gonna wake up or I'm gonna beat your ass!" Daryl declared, shaking him hard. Connor's eyes snapped open in the middle of the jolting, trying to wiggle himself away from the vice grip.

"Fuck, Daryl!"

"That's more like it" Daryl grunted out, pushing him away so hard his head thunked off the floor. Scorn seared his skin, the way he had looked at Rick (a total stranger) first only fueled it. He snagged his crossbow off the ground and started to make a round amongst the fallen bodies, yanking out his arrows with barely a grunt.

Connor tried to rub the hurt out of his face, blinking hard a few times to drive the drowsiness away.

"What the fuck?" he grouched, squinting around "Where..?"

"Dude, you nearly gave us a heart attack" Glenn replied, glad to see the blonde awake and alive. Any friend with breath in his lungs and red blood in his veins was welcome.

Rick stood and offered the blonde a hand, getting a scowl for his efforts. Connor smacked his hand away and got to his feet on his own, brushing his jeans off.

"And just who the fuck are you?"

"There you are" Daryl smirked, yanking a particularly stuck arrow out of a walker's skull "We came to save your sorry ass."

"Daryl!"

Connor practically shoulder-blocked Rick getting past him, running straight to the hunter. Daryl made a sound of surprise when the blonde yanked him into a too-tight hug, arms open and hands clutching his crossbow and arrow.

"Thought I'd never see you again" Connor murmured into his chest, too low for the others to hear.

"I-I...Conn, man..." Daryl flushed darkly, unsure what to do.

Connor pulled away, pointing to the wound along his head, "You're bloody brother smacked me with a fucking board and shoved something down my throat!"

"What?"

Connor gagged, wiping his mouth, "Tastes like gun oil and meth or somethin'."

"You think your brother's worth saving now?" T-Dog spat it like an accusation "He tried to kill him, dog, you can't ignore that."

"With this?" Rick held up the plywood, blood caked on the end.

The blonde scowled, "Yeah, that's it."

Daryl couldn't ignore the wood, "Did he really?"

"Yeah" Connor touched his head, wincing at the sting "I can't remember much but he said somethin' about...fuck, man, I can't remember."

"You should be dead" Rick's eyes darted from one walker to the next "They had you surrounded. I think we got here just in time."

Connor hooked his thumb in his rosary and pulled it out, clutching the cross in his fist, "Maybe, yeah."

Daryl went ahead a bit, finding a broken window and a cloth with blood on it, "Merle went out this way and down the fire escape. He's on the ground."

Glenn frowned, "Why would he do that?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Daryl grunted "He's out there alone as far as he knows."

Daryl instantly felt guilty the moment those words passed his lips. He looked up to see Connor going from walker to walker, saying a small prayer over their heads and bidding them a safe journey in their afterlife. The redneck was torn. Merle was his kin but he had no right to drug Connor and leave him for dead. He knew what his big brother was trying to do. The bastard shoved some of his loopy pills down his throat and waited for the walkers to get him.

"Merle was gonna try and send a message to you" Daryl rasped, low enough for only Glenn and Grimes to hear him "He was gonna leave Connor for dead to teach you a lesson. He's my brother but he's got a way of doin' things."

"He's playing this all wrong" Rick scolded "Realistically, what are his odds out there?"

"No worse than bein' handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks."

Glenn and T-Dog had to look away, the Korean scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Daryl-"

"Ain't worried about some _dead_ bastard?"

"What about a thousand dumb dead bastards?" Rick countered "Hm? Different story?"

"Fuck you, do what you want" Daryl started to shove past him "I'm gonna get him."

"Daryl, wait" the sheriff put his arm out, blocking him.

Daryl threw the other's man's off violently, snarling, "Get your hands off me! You can't stop me!"

"I don't blame you" Rick got close, staring the other down "He's family, I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel. He probably didn't get very far. We can help you check a couple blocks around but _only_ if we keep a level head."

Daryl swallowed thickly, the sheriff sending a pang of something akin to fear or respect through his chest. Connor came up to them, stuffing his rosary back into his shirt.

"Conn?" Daryl didn't look away from the other man, seeking the archer's opinion.

"He's not wrong, Daryl" Connor tried to soothe both their egos, though he directly spoke to his friend "We won't survive out there all riled up. I don't want to, trust me, but I still want to save Merle. Even from his dumbass self."

Daryl gave Rick a tight nod, agreeing. The moment the other man turned his back, Daryl brushed the back of his hand over the Irishman's face.

"You should clean yourself up" he suggested gently "Walkers will smell you for miles."

Connor's heart gave a girly flutter at the touch, he only managed to nod. He started to walk to the sink but stopped, turning back to look at the group.

"Thanks for coming back, guys" Connor smiled sincerely "Without you, I'd be dead."

"We couldn't leave you" Glenn confessed "Murphy would kill us."

"He would, the little shit. And _you_" he gestured to Rick "Hell, I don't even know you, but thanks. What's your name?"

"Rick. Rick Grimes."

Connor came up, offered his hand, "Connor."

The older man shook his hand firmly. Daryl glared at their clasped hands, lip pulled up in a scowl.

"I know it's risky. I appreciate it. You didn't have to come back."

"We did" Rick admitted "For Merle and the guns."

Connor seemed to perk up at that, "Guns?"

The sheriff told him all about the guns in the street, how he'd been found, where their van was.

"We need those" he blew out a big breath "Damn."

"What're these?" Daryl inquired, kneeling on the floor and examining the spill of arrows over the floor "A few of these are a bit different."

Connor walked over and got down beside him, gathering up the three that had come from the pack, "I stopped at a store on the way through here. I found a pack that fit. They're yours if you want them."

"Yeah" Daryl wasn't sure what to say now that he'd shown his ass "Thanks."

Those cerulean eyes fell to the floor. Daryl laid his hand over his own, their fingers lacing over the three arrows.

"Seriously" the redneck squeezed his hand " 'preciate it."

Glenn hurriedly told the other two he had a plan, stealing the attention from the two men kneeling together. They didn't even look away from each other, hands still overlapped, disconnected from them and saving for a few precious seconds.

Glenn let them have that moment.

**xXx**

Murphy woke up to the sharp chirping of birds, sunlight warming his feet where it spilled across his legs. His mouth tasted like sour sleep and his limbs were heavy. Something had happened while eh was asleep. He wasn't sure what but it had been left an uncomfortable itch along his skin.

Wit a growl the Irishman managed to crawl out of the tent into the slightly cooler air, the shade of the trees a welcome relief from his stifling nap. After wiping the sleep from his eyes he yanked a white shirt off the line, tugging it over his head before heading into the center of camp. Some of the others were wandering about with their chores but it was strangely quiet with so many of them gone. His friends, mostly. Glenn, Daryl, Connor...hell, he'd give up a pack of smokes jut to hear Merle blundering about.

Speaking of smokes...

Murphy tugged a beaten pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, most of them still intact from his nap. They were starting to run low He searched for a lighter but came up empty handed.

"Hey, old man" Murphy passed Dale, respect in his joking tone "You got a light?"

The older man patted down his pockets, coming up with a heavy match book. He handed it over, the Irishman plucked one off and lit it in one practiced motion. He tucked the fag between his lips before taking a deep drag.

"Thanks" he handed it back.

"You were causing quite a stir earlier" Dale informed him, slipping the pack back into his shirt pocket "I trust you're feeling better?"

"I haven't even been awake, what could I have been doin'?"

"Screaming."

The solemn tone struck a chord, throat suddenly too dry for a witty retort.

"How loud?"

"_Loud_" Dale empathized "The whole camp though you were being attacked. If Shane hadn't told them what happened it could've gotten ugly."

"How the hell did Shane know?"

"He ran in there ready to save you" Murphy ignored the implication that he needed saving "He calmed you down, stopped the screaming, said you were having an awful nightmare. Lori told me he had to hold you down."

So _that_ was the itchy feeling. Shane had been pinning him, touching him. Fuck , he hated having people he didn't know touch him. But it was for a good cause. His yelling could've easily caused a panic.

"Sorry for scarin' ya."

"No problem" Dale insisted "But you might want to thank Shane. Some people aren't completely sold on you and your brother."

Murphy frowned.

"Don't look at me like that" the older man sighed "You're good boys, I can tell, but you're still strangers. I just want you to keep that in mind."

Smoke poured over the brunette's lips, "Aye."

**xXx**

"You're not doing this alone" Rick stated firmly.

Daryl was crouched, looking down at the display Glenn had drawn along the floor, "Even I think it's a bad idea and I don't even like you much."

"It's a good idea, okay" Glenn urged "If you just hear me out."

Connor dragged a wet cloth over his face, cleaning off as much blood as he could. He caught his reflection in a dirty mirror and scowled, dabbing as carefully as he could at his head wound.

"Let the kid talk" Connor called over, turning on the sink again to let the muddy water run until it cleared. He wet the cloth again in the questionable liquid, cleaning the rest of his neck.

"Thanks" Glenn flashed him a smile "If we go out there in a group we're slow, drawing attention. If I'm alone, I can move fast."

"And if yer alone they can swarm you easier" Daryl sniffed sharply "I promised Murph I'd keep you alive. _This_ is not what he meant."

"I'll be fine. Look" Glenn started moving some miscellaneous pieces into place "That's the tank, five blocks from where we are now. _This_ over here is the bag of guns. Here's the alley I dragged you into when we first met. That's where Daryl, Connor, and I will go."

"Why us?" the redneck questioned.

"T-Dog had a strong swing, Rick and him will be fine" Glenn explained "But your arrows are quiet as a team. Connor's a perfect shot. I'd feel better with you two backing me up."

"We'll get you home safe as a bug, kid" the Irishman put a hand on his shoulder, kneeling down next to him "I won't let them near you."

The younger man nodded, "And while you guys are waiting up the street, in eyeshot, I'll grab the bag."

Rick frowned, "Where are we?"

"You two will be in this alley here" he moved an eraser about two blocks up "I may not be able to come back the same way. Walkers might cut me off. If that happens, I'll leave those two behind and go forward instead. Right to you guys."

"That way you're covered" Connor squeezed his shoulder "Smart lad."

"After that, we'll all meet up back here."

Daryl pursed his lips for a moment, "Hey, kid, what'd you do before all this?"

"Delivered pizzas" Glenn capped the marker "Why?"

**xXx**

Connor followed Glenn down the covered ladder, Daryl just a few rungs behind him. They scurried along the alley, keeping low, all eyes on the alley mouth for the dead. Connor slipped behind one dumpster, the redneck putting his back to one on the other side, covering it the best they could. Glenn knelt beside the brunette hunter, a nervous bounce to his step.

"You got some balls for a Chinaman" Daryl huffed, stepping down on the crossbow to cock it back.

Glenn rolled his eyes, "I'm Korean."

"Whatever, man."

After taking a few moments to suck in some courage, the younger man ran out into the street. The two archers settled down silently, keeping their breaths shallow and their ears perked. Connor heard it first, the scrape of shoes across cement, and he dared to peek around the corner. He spotted a young man.

"Daryl" he whispered "We got company."

The boy stilled, he'd heard them. The two moved as one, crossbow hefted up while an arrow was notched, both arrows aimed at the boy's head.

"Whoa, don't shoot me" the boy pleaded, eyes wide "What do you want?"

"I'm looking for my brother" Daryl informed him "He's hurt real bad. You seen him?"

The boy's chest swelled before he shouted, "_Ayudame!_"

"Shut up!" Daryl growled, getting closer "You're gonna bring the geeks down on us. Answer me!"

He kept screaming that word over and over, like a signal.

"Shut _up_!" Daryl swung, the end of his crossbow cracking the boy in the jaw. He collapsed on the ground, coughing out thick crimson droplets.

"Daryl! Stop!" Connor pushed the redneck out of the way, dropping to a crouch beside the boy and clamping a hand over his mouth "Look at me, lad, _look at me_."

The boy stopped screaming, their eyes locking.

"I am not going to hurt you but there are some dangerous beasts out there who will tear us apart if you don't _quiet down_."

The boy just stared, blood warm beneath the blonde's hand.

Daryl look up at the last minute, spotting two large men running at them too late.

"Shit!"

The large of the two kicked him over, a bat smacking his crossbow out of his grip. Connor dodged the first swing of the man's bate but got a boot to the ribs, landing right across his bruises. The Irishman got to his feet, dropping his bow, and fought back. He managed to land a few good hits but he took a bat to the stomach, ripping the wind out of him. One good shove and he fell into the getting-up redneck, splaying them both on the ground. The Mexicans were on them so fast all they could do was cover their heads and curl up, protecting themselves against the assault.

Without warning, the attack stopped as quickly as it had started. Daryl picked his head up first, spotting Glenn's retreating form a second before the bastards took him down too. He fumbled in reloading his crossbow, arms protesting painfully as he locked the string in place. Connor was trying to get his bow up but his arrows had spilled out onto the ground. Glenn's cries were echoing in their ears.

Daryl took the shot, landing it straight in the Mexican's ass. The man screamed, laying off their friend.

"Fuck" Connor cursed, abandoning the bow for his gun. His ribs were on fire and his fingers were shaking across the leather, useless. By the time he got it loose and aimed, one of those bastards had grabbed Glenn and was using him as a shield. Daryl was on his feet with his crossbow aimed, a snarl on his lips.

"Get off me!" Glenn shouted, the bat digging into his throat "Get off me!"

It was going too fast, they couldn't shoot without hitting him.

"Connor!" the Korean kicked out, getting dragged through the gate as a white car pulled up in the street "Daryl! _Daryl_!"

They couldn't get to him. In seconds he was shoved in the car and gone.

"Come back!" Connor screamed, smacking the fence with his palms.

"You sumbitches!" Daryl pushed it open, ready to go after them. The walkers started to come at them, the Irishman dragged the door closed to keep them off. He locked it, separating them. Rick and T-Dog came down the alley, confused.

"What the hell happened?" Rick inquired, looking to the new boy "Who're you?"

Connor and Daryl turned in unison, a fierce fire in their eyes. The redneck was the one who charged, shoving the kid hard in the chest to smack him off the wall.

"Whoa, stop!"

"Let me go" the boy demanded, but T-Dog pushing him back into the wall when he tried to get away.

"Chill out, kid!"

"They took Glenn!" Connor roared, the sheriff's forearm on his chest the only thing keeping him back "They took us from behind!"

"That little bastard and his little bastard homie friends" Daryl tried to shove past Rick but the man held strong "I'm gonna stomp your ass, you little bitch!"

"Guys! Guys! We're cut off" T-Dog pointed out sharply, the walkers piling up fast on the other side of the fence.

Rick looked to the dead, worry growing, "Get to the lab. Go. Take the kid!"

"Shit" Connor cursed, grabbing his bow and the bag of guns off the ground. He tossed the weapons to Rick, taking a moment to snag up his arrows and shove them in his quiver.

"Dirty fuckin' spics" Daryl grit his teeth, locking up his crossbow "Motherfuckers!"

"Go" Connor shoved the redneck in the shoulder, urging him forward "Hurry up!"

**xXx**

Murphy walked with dale and found Shane with some of the others along the tree line, the group busying themselves anxiously for a reason he didn't know. But he could sympathize. His stomach was in knots from Dale's words. What the others must think of him he wasn't sure. He was burning through his cigarette to eat away the nerves but it wasn't working.

"Shane?"

The older man looked up, lips quirking, "Good mornin', Sleeping Beauty."

"It wasn't such a pretty racket. I was makin' " Murphy tossed down the burnt bud, letting the dirt smother the ember "Wanted to thank you for stoppin' it when you did."

"I wasn't about to let you suffer."

Murphy came closer, lowering his voice, "Conn usually picks me out of them before they get that bad."

Shane's brow furrowed curiously, "You have nightmares much?"

"More than I'd like" he confessed.

"What about?"

"Shadows" Murphy answered honestly, a quiet discontent settling around him "But this time it was walkers."

The other man suddenly looked self-conscious, "You, uh, want to talk about it?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Dr. Phil" Murphy laughed, some of the tension melting away "I'll be okay. I'm a big boy, can buckle my own belt and everything."

Shane's laugh was more of a bark, "Doubt that."

Murphy looked down, grinning when he saw that his belt (indeed) was hanging limp and unbuckled from his belt loops. He fixed it, snapping it in place with a solid click. When he looked up he couldn't help but see Jim tied to a tree a little away from everyone else.

"What's goin' on?"

Shane craned his neck, following his line of sight, "Oh. That."

"Yes, _that_" the Irishman emphasized "Is he alright?"

"We found him digging graves on the hill" Shane explained "He's breakin', I think, least around the edges. He said he dreamed it up but I'm not sure what that means. He said he couldn't' remember most of it. Nearly gave himself sunstroke up there. It's too hot for a fella to be digging _graves_ of all things. I tried to be nice about it but he was scaring everyone. He replied with a shovel upside my head."

"Did he hit you?"

"Missed. I had to take 'im down and tie him up."

Murphy hummed in the back of his throat, "Mind if I talk to him?"

"Be my guest" Shane gestured grandly "If you can't talk some sense into him, he's stayin' right there."

Murphy grabbed one of the bottles of water off the folding table before walking over, dropping down to one knee in front of the older man. He looked awful, hair matted with sweat and cheeks ruddy.

"Still thirsty?" he asked, taking off the cap.

Jim nodded, opening his mouth to accept the lip of the bottle. The Irishman was careful as he let it trickle past his dry mouth, waiting until he'd had enough to quench his dry throat before he lowered it.

"I heard you gave the babes a fright" Murphy stated, trying not to sound judgmental "Why don't you take a moment and apologize?"

"I'm...I'm sorry" Jim looked to the kids, they were hesitant to meet his eyes "I really am."

Sophia kind of smiled, Carl just looked back down at his school books.

"Why were you digging?" he inquired.

Jim saw Dale and Shane watching closely, he flinched and dropped his eyes gaze to the ground.

"Just look at me" Murphy smiled real gently "Can you tell me why you were digging?"

"Told Shane, I dreamt it" Jim was still looking down "Your dad was in it. Don't rightly know what he looked like but I'm sure it was him. Carl and his dad-"

The Irishman grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up, "Stop that."

Jim's eyes darted to the boy, the brunette dug his fingers into his jaw.

"That's an innocent lad over there and you don't need to frighten him" Murphy warned "These dreams you're havin', I have him them too, but you don't need to scare people. It's nonsense."

"Your brother was there" Jim's tone was solemn, his eyes dead already "He was burning up."

Murphy dropped his hand, fingers balling into fists at his sides, "You're no prophet, Jim. Now say you're sorry before I kick your balls up into your throat."

He was quick to apologize after that, more sincere than before.

"Ain't nothing gonna stop your dad from gettin' back to you and your mom. I promise you that" Jim finished, leaving a sour taste in the Irishman's mouth.

Shane cleared his throat, plucking one of their slimmer knives off a clothesline, "Alright. Who wants to go clean and bone some fish?"

Murphy straightened up, turning and gesturing wildly, "Kids, school can wait. Survival skills time."

"Awesome" Carl jumped to his feet "Come on, Sophia!"

"Let's go, darlins' " Murphy pet Sophia's head as she passed, getting her to grin "You clean 'em and I'll fry 'em up good for ya."

"Stay in Murphy's sight!" Lori called after them.

He shot her a wink, "Shane and I got 'em, don't you worry one second."

With Jim's terrifying nightmares hanging on his conscious, he prayed he was right.

**xXx**

"Those men you were with, we need to know where they went."

"I ain't tellin you nothin."

Rick wasn't getting through to the boy, he was stubborn. Daryl was pacing in front of them, snarling and puffing like a caged bull. The image of Connor collapsing was still too vivid in his mind, just _thinking_ about the bruises the man would have later made him angry.

T-Dog rubbed his palm across his eyes, "What the hell even happened, man?"

"I told you!" Daryl spat "This little bitch and his douchebag friends came out of nowhere and jumped us. Nearly busted our heads open right there."

"You're the one who jumped me, _puto_" the boy griped "Screaming about trying to find his brother like it's my damn fault."

"They took Glenn" Connor reminded them "They could've taken Merle too."

"_Merle_?" the boy parroted "What kind of hick name is that? I wouldn't name my dog _Merle_."

Daryl lunged for the boy. Connor caught him across the chest, yanking him back just in time. The redneck nearly kicked the kid's chair over but he was pulled away before his heel could even graze the side.

"Damn it" Connor cursed under his breath "Back off a bit, will ya? He's not going to tell us anythin' with you breathing down his neck like that."

"He nearly got you killed" Daryl pointed out, trying to shove past him "Or did you forget?"

"Daryl-" the redneck slipped through his fingers "Daryl!"

The older man grabbed the boy by his collar and lifted him up out of the chair, slamming him down on the floor and forcing a cry from his lips.

"The last time someone tried to smash my friend's skull in" Daryl got right in his face, pinning him in the corner "I put an arrow through their eyesocket. You're playing fast and lose with those peepers of yours."

Rick fisted his hands in the back of the redneck's shirt, yanking him up off the kid. Connor gave the sheriff a nod before taking Daryl by the arm, leading him away.

"Stop it, already" Connor scolded, keeping half an eye on Rick as he tried to negotiate with the boy "I appreciate it, I do, but we need Glenn back."

Daryl's eyes danced between the boy and his friend, jaw clenched tight.

"You could'a died right there" he pointed out grimly.

"I didn't, did I?" Connor punched him in the shoulder "Let's focus on Glenn."

**xXx**

Connor hid himself as best he could on the roof, bow smooth in his palm and arrow light. It felt almost natural, second nature after all these months hunting and killing. The others were below, negotiating with the leader of the group that had taken their friend. Though Rick had told him to watch the vatos, his eyes kept darting back to Daryl.

There was motion on the other roof, the one above the front door, over on his left. It was two of the men and they were holding Glenn, the Korean's hands bound behind his back and tape slapped across his mouth. He looked frightened, hair mussed like he'd been roughed up. Connor's heart starting beating a tattoo on the inside of his chest. He remembered Murphy talking all about Glenn. How he was a good kid, how he trusted him above the others (more than Daryl), how he was the cutest thing he'd seen since the apocalypse started. He'd never seen Murphy become attached to someone so quickly. It wasn't the beginnings of love, but he knew his twin would gladly throw himself into a fire fight for him. Murphy liked to call him a puppy, all nervous energy with the way he couldn't sit still. He'd called it 'sweet'.

"Don't you drop him" Connor whispered to himself, rosary day-warm against his chest "Father, protect him."

Down on the ground, Rick pointed out that they weren't alone in the area. While Guillermo looked up toward T-Dog, the sheriff turned his attention toward the archer. Connor had his back to the sun, blonde hair catching and reflecting every ray. His bow looked like an extension of his arm, face solemn and judging.

Carl was right, he was an angel.

**xXx**

Rick slammed the bag of guns down on the table, decision weighing heavy on his shoulders.

"Them guns are worth more than gold" Daryl drawled, pacing lightly in front of the desk " 'Cept gold won't protect your family or put food on the table. You willin' to give it all up for that kid?"

Connor listened to it all silently, fingers wrapped in his rosary and cross cradled in his palm. He was leaning against the wall, looking at the stolen boy with a solemn expression.

"If I knew we'd get Glenn back, I might agree" T-Dog added, digging his thumb into his chin as he thought I over "But you think that vato across the way is just gonna hand him over?"

The Latino boy frowned from his position on the floor, "Are you calling G a liar?"

"Are you a part of this?" Daryl spat, leaning down long enough to smack the kid upside the head "You want to hold onto your teeth?!"

Connor barely saw the interaction, face blank as his mind raced on what to do. He couldn't leave Glenn behind, the thought of it made him sick. What would Murphy say if he came back empty handed? He'd never forgive him. Hell, he'd never forgive _himself._

"Hm" T-Dog watched the threatening display, glad to see the redneck back off "Question is, do you trust that man's word?"

"No, question is, what are you willing to bet on it?" Daryl pointed out "Could be more than them guns. Could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?"

Then he said it.

"We might have to leave him for the guns."

"Stop it!" Connor pushed off the wall, face pinched as if he were in pain "I don't want to hear it anymore. I don't know about you but Glenn is my friend and I can't listen to you talk about him like he's a _thing._ Whether he's an asset or a hindrance doesn't fuckin' matter. No man gets left behind, no one."

Daryl flinched when the blonde's fiery gaze fell on him.

"If we can come back for Merle we can stay for Glenn."

The hunter bit down on the fat of his lip, guilt welling up from the bottom of his gut.

"Yeah, I can see that" Daryl muttered reluctantly "Maybe...we could at least try."

Connor raised an eyebrow in Rick's direction, the older man nodded.

"Glenn saved me from the tank, I owe the life I have to him" Rick loaded his pistol with a satisfying click "He could've walked away and left me for dead but he didn't. So neither will I."

"I said _stay_, not hand the guns over" Daryl shot in.

"I didn't say that" Rick took a long breath "There's nothing hold you three here. You should get out, head back to camp."

"And tell your family what, exactly?" T-Dog scoffed "No way."

Daryl and Connor agreed with silent nods, going for the guns on the table. They started loading them in unison, skilled fingers making every motion smooth.

Rick hid his relieved smile.

**xXx**

They soon found out that their enemies were not as they appeared.

Senior care takers, concerned sons and grandchildren, thugs with big hearts.

They settled down in one of the rooms G showed them to, putting down their guns and resting while they could.

"If you two are staff, what about the rest of your crew?" Rick inquired.

"The vatos trickle in to check on their parents, their grandparents" G admitted, though no ounce of shame in his voice "They see how things are and most decide to stay. It's a good thing too. We need the muscle. The people we've encountered have been the worst kind – plunderers. The kind that take by force."

"That's not who we are."

"How was I to know?" Guillermo snapped, though the fire didn't last long "My people got attacked and you show up with Miguel hostage...appearances."

"Guess the world changed" T-Dog gruffed, head resting against the wall.

"No" the leader sounded low, worn "It's the same as it ever was. The weak get taken. So we do what we can here. The vatos work on the cars, talk about getting the old ones out of the city. But most of them can't go to the bathroom by themselves so it's only a dream. Still, it keeps them busy, and that's worth something."

The group hung off every word, hearts aching behind their ribs.

"So we barred all the windows, welded all the doors shut except for one entrance" Guillermo continued, gesturing weakly "The vatos go out, scavenge what they can to keep us going. We watch the perimeter night and day and we wait."

The man hung his head, "The people here...they look to me now. I don't even know why."

Rick sympathized, "Because they can."

Connor came up behind the sheriff, touching the back of his arm, "Rick...give them some of the guns."

Daryl brought his thumb up to his mouth, chomping down on the side of it to keep from saying anything. Rick looked unsure but the blonde squeezed his arm, looking up into his face.

"Just a few" Connor persuaded "Enough ammo to help them along, that's all I ask."

The sheriff was already leaning on that side of his conscious and he collapsed under those words. He handed G over his gun, taking another out of the bag and laying it along the table. He was sorting out some ammo when Guillermo started to really look at the Irishman.

"You have a brother?" G asked suddenly.

Connor glanced at the others, wondering if they'd told him, "Yeah."

"I had a friend out in the city a while ago who had some Irish boys with his group" the man eyed him "Only so many micks in Atlanta, you feel me."

"You mean Ron?"

"Mmhmm" he sounded suspicious.

"We stayed with them for a week" Connor could feel Rick's attention on him now "We didn't get to know them very well."

"Okay, man, just askin' a question" G could see he didn't want to talk about it "That's all."

Connor started to leave the room when he heard it.

"What happened to your friend Ron and his people?"

"They were mauled by a group of biters in the dead end of an alley. No one got out alive."

He staggered out the doorway, hurrying down the hall until he found a sink. Bile filled his mouth, searing his throat, his stomach cramping up so hard he lost everything he'd managed to eat earlier. He wretched until there was nothing left but water and pain. He panted over the dirty porcelain, lashes wet and knees shaking from the exertion.

"Conn?"

It was Daryl coming up behind him, the hunter's hand laying across his shaking shoulder blade.

"I'm fine" Connor lied, still gagging "It's just the heat and what happened, it's getting' to me."

"Jesus, man, look at you" the man tried to rub his back, sounding worried.

"Go away, Daryl."

"Connor-"

"I said _go away_" he growled, shrugging him off "Give me a damn minute, will ya?"

Daryl yanked back his hand like he'd been bit, backing up to let him have some room. He would ask later. But for right now he'd leave the man alone.

**xXx**

After Connor had composed himself and the guns had been sorted, the group headed back to the van and truck. They had a toolbox, a sheriff's hat, Glenn, and a mostly full bag of guns to show their effort. Connor had his arm looped around the Korean's shoulders, walking side by side with him.

"Glad to see ya safe and sound with us again" Connor knocked their heads together "Thought you were dead. When I saw you on that roof I thought that was it."

"I'm probably only alive because you prayed for me."

Connor's brow furrowed, "How'd you know?"

"Murphy says you pray for everyone, I was kind of hoping I fit into that category" Glenn grinned, pulling down the rim of his cap "Something about your lips to God's ear?"

Connor laughed loudly, shaking him firmly, "Murph thinks I pray gold and silver. Just some good, old-fashioned brother worship."

"Daryl might know a thing or two about that" Rick teased, getting a sharp look from the redneck.

"You know, you can all admit it now" Glenn proclaimed "You only came back to Atlanta for the hat."

The sheriff made a mockingly outraged face, "Don't tell anybody."

"There's nothin' to joke about" Daryl sounded bitter "You've given away half our guns and ammo."

"Not nearly half" Rick assured him.

"And for what?" he spit on the ground "Bunch of old farts who are gonna die off momentarily anyhow? Seriously, how long do you think they got?"

"How long do any of us?" Connor countered, letting go of the Korean "Plus, we got our runner back. I think it was worth it."

Glenn opened his mouth to thank him again but he stopped with the others when they came upon the tracks, the wind pulled out of him, "Oh my God."

Connor looked away from the truck he had taken, still sitting by the fence, "What?"

"Our van" Daryl started to scowl "Where the hell is it?"

"We left it right there" Glenn nodded to the empty tracks "Who would take it?"

Rick puffed up like a cat, jaw ticking, "_Merle_."

"Shit!" Connor took off toward his truck at a full sprint, bow bouncing across his back from how it was laid over his shoulders. He ripped open the door and stuck his arm in, feeling around to discover the faintest edges of metal inside the slot. The key was broken off low and stuck, the wheel locked.

"Son of a bitch!"

Connor dropped and ducked under the vehicle, still cursing. They could hear him from across the way, barks of muddled Gaelic and English.

Daryl wet his lips, barely looking up from the ground, "Merle's gonna be takin' some vengeance back to camp."

Connor reappeared with a nasty scowl, heading straight toward them. Daryl tried to step behind Rick but the sheriff shoved him forward, straight into the Irishman's line of fire. Connor jabbed him right in the chest, getting him to cringe away.

"That's _it_! Your brother has gone too far" Connor seethed "He broke the keys and cut the brake lines in the truck. He's stranded us here!"

"He probably thinks he's alone in the world" Daryl winced when he was jabbed again "He's just takin' some revenge."

"He's a selfish fuckin' prick and you won't convince me otherwise" Connor stalked away, kicking up gravel like grape shot "_Fuck_! Do you have any idea how long it's going to take to talk back 'ta camp? We're going to go into fuckin' heatstroke before night hits. _God_! _Damn_! _Merle_!"

Connor ripped off his bow and tossed it down angrily. He dropped into a crouch, head cradled between his palms and eyes screwed shut. His temples were throbbing, he was dehydrated, and he'd been passed out for hours. He could've died in that God forsaken building and Murphy would have never really known how much he meant to him. His twin was his whole world and the way he'd left him, the anger he'd shown...he'd been such an asshole. No matter what Murphy had said he didn't deserve to be hit in front of everyone. He'd sworn to keep another man from putting his hands on his brother after those thugs and then he'd done himself. He had no idea where Murphy was or if he was okay. He'd needed him and he'd run off in search of a total asshole. He'd always pictured his death in a blaze of glory alongside his twin, not eaten alive on a cold floor.

Glenn tried to go over to calm him but the redneck stared him off, going over himself instead. Daryl dropped down on one knee in front of him, resting a hand on the blonde's knee.

"Hey, man, don't cry or nothin' " Daryl kept his voice low so the others couldn't hear "We're gonna get back and it's gonna be fine."

"You don't understand" Connor lamented, the edge of his teeth digging sharply into his lower lip "I could've died in there and the last time I would've touched 'ma brother was to punch 'im."

"You punched Murph?"

"We got into a fight before I left to find Merle" he sniffed, swallowing down the tears that were threatening to leak "He was hurt, got cut by some glass, and I was a jackass about it. If I'd been eaten in there, then that would've been the last memory of me."

"But you weren't and it's not."

Daryl didn't give a shit that the others were watching. He reached up and laced his fingers through his friend's straw colored hair, bringing their foreheads together in an intimate touch. Connor instantly relaxed at the touch, one hand coming up to grab the hunter's wrist. Their breathing synced up for just those few precious moments.

"He's fine back at camp" Daryl promised.

"Your fuckin' brother..." but his voice lacked conviction.

"And the next time I see him, I'll bust him good for what he did to you" Daryl swore "But right now you need to pick yourself up and we all need to get our asses back to camp."

Daryl grabbed him under the arms and manhandled him to his feet, brushing the gravel dust off them both. Connor huffed and dug his heels into his palms, thanking the redneck softly when he pushed his bow back into his hands.

Rick tapped Glenn's shoulder, cocking his head toward him, "Do they do this a lot?"

"Dude, don't even get me started."

**xXx**

The group was sitting around the fire together, passing around the pans of fried fish. There was laughter, stupid stories, but most of all the others were filled with new hope. A camaraderie of sorts had grown between them that made them all eager to share. Murphy had scrounged around earlier and found about a bushel of crab apples. He'd boiled it down with some wild onions and filtered water to make a tangy sauce, only boosting the morale.

"I hate everything you put in this" Andrea pointed out, running her thumb through the liquid on her plate "But it's fantastic."

"Ma was always taking things up out of the ground and off the trees, putting them on our plate in weird ways" Murphy informed them, stuffing another bite between his lips "I thank the stars for her every night. She taught me all I know about food. That woman was a saint, I tell ya."

Shane hummed in agreement, "I miss home cookin', that's for sure."

"Here you go, little darlins" Murphy forked the rest of his plate between Carl and Sophia, the girl's face lighting up as the boy thanked him quietly "I'm full. You go ahead and eat up."

Amy smiled at the display, affection in her eyes.

Murphy set his dishes aside before getting up, brushing his hands off on his pants, "I'll be right back. Nature calls."

The Irishman started to walk away. Amy bit the side of her lip, really considering her actions before getting up as well.

"Where are you going?" Andrea questioned suspiciously.

"I have to pee" Amy announced, lying "Jeez, you try to be discreet around here..."

The group laughed it off, letting her slip away.

"Kids" Lori grinned behind the back of her hand "What can you do?"

Shane scraped his fork against his plate, trying to roll off the tinges of jealousy. He struggled to convince himself he didn't care and it almost worked, but every time he looked at Lori he was reminded of just how much he'd lost in so short of time.

_That little slut, throwing it to everyone at camp._

Shane shoved another bite of fish into his mouth, banishing those kinds of thoughts.

Over in the woods, Murphy shook himself off and zipped up. He cleaned his hands off with one of the buckets of rain water hanging off the trees, wiping his dripping palms off on his jeans. He started back toward the fire pit, passing by Dale's RV. Before he got to the end someone appeared around the corner of it.

"Amy!" Murphy put a hand over his heart, smiling breathlessly "You scared me for a half a second."

"I'm sorry" she soothed, hands laced at the base of her back to show off the curve of her chest "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay, darlin', no problems" Murphy started to walk past but her hand came out, laying across his chest "Is somethin' on your mind?"

"You could say that" Amy smiled, too sugar sweet for his taste "I just...wanted to make sure your leg is okay."

Her hand trailed down his chest, knuckles skimming over his uninjured thigh. Murphy looked her up and down, noting her flushed cheeks and the flirty arch of her body.

"Pretty lass like you should be accompanied out here at night" Murphy laced their fingers, bringing their hands up until he could press a kiss to the back of hers "Bit unladylike to be sneaking around in the dark, don't you think?"

Amy laughed under her breath, squeezing his hand, "I've got you, I think I'll be fine."

"Let's head back" he tugged their hands forward, taking a few more steps "It's cold here."

Murphy let her push him against the RV. He had no real objection to her forcefulness and it didn't hurt when his back hit the van, there was no reason to push her away. She boldly pressed up against him, cupping the side of his face with one hand while the other stroked down his ribs. It felt good. She was a pretty young girl, and they slotted together so sweetly.

"I could keep you warm, Murphy" Amy bit the side of her lip and grinned, a coquettish expression that fit her cute face.

"I bet you could, sweetheart" his voice was rough to his own ears, he sounded interested though his mind had yet to decide "You seem hot enough to these eyes."

"And why not?" she purred, leaning up "It's the end of the world."

"Guess so" Murphy muttered, head thunking off the side of the RV. He couldn't get away when she finally pushed up and took his mouth in a kiss. It was soft and damp, a nice bit of tenderness. It didn't bring up any biting memories and that was a relief. Her lips were smaller than Glenn's had been. It was unfair to compare them but he couldn't help it. The thought of the Korean made him hesitate, he slowed the kiss to just pressure of lips.

_Hands slid through his hair, warm lips bussed across his forehead, pulling him from nightmares._

"_It's alright, sweetheart, I'm here."_

"Shit" he trembled, pulling away slowly "Amy, stop, I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?" she let go of him, one hand going to her mouth "Was it bad?"

"No, no, it was great but...listen, you're a nice girl and all but _this_" Murphy gestured between them "We can't do this."

"Why not?" Amy looked put out, stepping back and crossing her arms over her small chest "You're always so nice and no one could care. I know you like me, Murphy, you can't deny that."

"What are we, twelve? I don't _like you_ like you" Murphy laughed but stopped when he saw the hurt expression pinch her face "I'm sorry, Amy, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that...I can't."

"You can't?" Amy frowned, clearly embarrassed "What does that even mean?"

"My hearts shredded up, lass, trust me" he stressed "You don't want any part of it."

Amy pulled herself together, putting back on a smile, "We could just...fuck?"

She sounded so unsure and hurt that it broke his heart. He grabbed her hand and gently pulled her closer, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

"Don't you worry for one moment about this, pretty girl" Murphy let her go, trying to be as light-hearted as he could "Another guys will come along. I mean, there's only so many of us left. Chances are we'll run into him."

Amy nodded though her disappointment was clear, "I'm just going to...stay here for a bit. Lick my wounds for a little while."

Murphy pursed his lips and nodded, slipping past her easily and making a beeline for the fire pit. He didn't want to make it anymore awkward and some space would do her good. He was halfway there when flashes from his last nightmare seared through his mind. The deep cave, the beam of light, the walkers frothing at the mouth for a taste of him. His friends dead, his brother lost to him. He laid a hand over his rosary, the beads digging into his fingers as he tried to blink the shadows away. He could still hear the screams, his own.

Murphy covered his ears, hoping to drown out the phantom voices from his nightmares that his twin promised weren't real. They were only dreams, only figments of his imagination. The only shadows in the world were the walkers and he needed desperately to remember that.

"It's just in my head" he repeated a few times to himself, slowly lowering his hands as he came back to reality. Then he realized the cries were real and the shadows on the edge of his vision were actually along the edge of camp.

"Amy!"

But it was too late.

**xXx**

It went by in a blur. The bright light of Amy's life was ripped from her throat and spilled carelessly on the ground, staining the grass and the side of the RV. He couldn't stay, there was nothing he could do.

Murphy went for the tent, running on quick feet to get his weapons. Handfuls of walkers had invaded and they brushed past him, gazes trailing after him but they seemed more interested in the other screaming bits of food. Some made a grab for him but it was weak, he thanked the Lord above that they weren't that hungry. He had no weapons and there was nothing on the ground to use. Just because they usually ignored him didn't mean he was any less terrified.

He finally came across his tent and practically dove inside, grabbing his sheathes and clipping them to his belt with shaking hands. He grabbed his pistols next, ignoring their holsters and pocketing an extra clip each. The Irishman pushed out again and put them up, starting to shoot as soon as he could. He didn't know quite where the main group was, Shane and Lori and them, but he made an effort to find them. It was mash of roamers and feedings, too much for him to save anyone. It was too late for most. Gunshots rang through the clearing, he followed them.

Then another voices called through the camp, the sheriff's voice.

Rick and the boys were back.

"Connor!" he started yelling, heart rising up into his throat "_Connor_!"

**xXx**

Connor shot a walker clean between the eyes. He caught sound of his brother's yelling from across the compound. His heart soared, ecstatic to hear the sound of his voice, but it just as quickly dropped and shattered in his chest when he turned to tell Daryl to cover him. The other hunter (nearly standing back to back with him) was struggling to load his shotgun, from the way he was smacking it with the blunt of his palm he could only guess that it had jammed up.

Connor saw it coming but his mouth wouldn't form the words of warning. It was a walker with his feet chewed off. The dead thing was shuffling forward on his knees, arms open while it's gaping jaw snapped for flesh.

This couldn't be happening. He could see it playing out in his head like a movie. Daryl getting bit, suffering the fever, becoming a geek in a matter of hours. He'd stay by his side, wipe his brow, and pray for a redemption that would never happen. He couldn't do it, he couldn't lose Daryl.

There was no time to aim and shoot, the cost was too high if he missed. Connor just moved, tackling Daryl out of the way and knocking the brunette to the ground. He landed himself right in the vice grip of the walker, steel-strong fingers pressing down into his hips. That wasn't the pain he felt. The hurt he felt was sharp and along his hip, just above the bone. A raw cry of agony ripped itself from his chest, tearing up his throat.

Connor flipped his pistol and brought the butt end of it down into the walker's head, cracking the softened skull on the first hit. The dead thing practically fell apart, collapsing on the ground in a rotted heap of flesh. He kicked it away from him and grabbed Daryl by the arm, yanking the older man to his feet. Daryl was gaping, looking between the walker and him, shocked by what had happened.

"Conn!"

Murphy came up to them, looking flushed and blood speckled. He had tears in his eyes and a angry line to his shoulders.

"A-Amy" Murphy panted out, sounding rough "She's dead. They got 'er. They're killin' everyone."

Connor tightened his grip on his pistols. It was so loud, a sickening melody of screams and growls and bloodshed. The dead were taking over and trying to destroy his new family, his only allies in this new world. He wasn't about to give up Daryl, his brother, or anyone else. He ran up to the nearest picnic table and climbed atop it, wielding his pistols like swords. Murphy realized what his brother was doing and started reloading his own pistols

"Stop!" Connor bellowed with all the authority of a lawman and all the passion of a minister "Stop this now, you godless heathens."

The walkers started to slow down a to a crawl, in moments they stopped their feeding. The dead too far away to hear kept going to Murphy started shooting them, head shotting as much as he could. Those closer started to rumble in their throats and inch closer, most releasing their victims. Ruined, infected survivors collapsed to the ground. One of their unharmed victims was Morales, smashing his captor in the head the moment he was free. The geeks had their heads tipped back and they were sniffing the air eagerly, catching the MacManus' scent.

"You will kneel and accept your fate or so help me _God_ I will drive my wrath through your hearts and heads!"

A few of the walkers started hissing between what was left of their teeth, most knelt.

Some zombies start hissing, the others dropped to their knees. Shane and the others still had their bats and guns raised but they were gawking at the obeying walkers.

"You come to our home and feed on our good people? No more!" Connor tightened his grip on his guns, heart pounding a war rhythm out until he could hear was the rush of his own blood "I will send you to the pit where the fires will lick at you for all eternity, you filthy Hell beasts!"

Those walkers not kneeling started to surround them, hands twitching up as if resisting the urge to yank the twins closer. One quick grab and Connor would be down...one fell swoop and Murphy would be eaten alive. But the brothers stood defiant in the face of possible desolation.

"And Shepherds we shall be. For thee, my Lord, for thee" their voices rang in unison over the compound, a rhythmic chant "Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands. We shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In nomine patri, et filii...Spiritus Sancti."

The twins fired without hesitation. A dozen walkers fell like wind-up toys under their bullets. Daryl's gun dropped from his hands. Connor looked more like an archangel now, laying out his law without mercy. He'd never seen the man so full of fury before. Murphy seemed to be feeding off his twin, justified in the presence of his brother, seeming stronger than he had been just an hour ago.

The gunfire only stopped once the walkers were truly and finally dead. The twins ejected their empty clips, chests heaving in unison as they tried to catch their breath. Everyone was shuddering and clinging to one another, terror still laced in their very blood. All that filled the air now was Andrea heavy sobbing and unanswered questions, unimaginable pain mucking up their lungs as they looked out to see their camp-mates dead or dying. All hands trembled, all eyes glazed.

"Carl! Baby!"

Rick took his son into his arms, reaching out for Lori as well. The family hugged one another, crying, relieved beyond measure.

The moonlight caught the fine spatter of blood on Connor's face as he tipped his head back, letting the adrenaline bleed out of his system. Murphy ran over and grabbed Glenn, hugging him hard with one arm while the other grabbed Daryl's shoulder. Both were too stunned to respond, the only noise Glenn made was something like a raspy dry sob.

"I'm glad to see you fellas" Murphy's voice was strained, smile flimsy at best "More than you know."

There was a sharp creak of the picnic table, the thud of two pistols dropping to the gun.

"Conn?" Daryl called, not the first question he wanted to ask.

Connor's eyes rolled into the back of his head. His hip was on fire, burning through his very bones. He rocked back on his heels, a sound of distress escaping him before everything started to go dark. He opened his mouth to call for help but could only manage another pathetic whine.

Murphy watched in horror as his brother went limp, falling off the table and hitting the group with a sickening thump. He ran to his side, pushing Jim out of the way to kneel beside the blonde. He smacked his cheek lightly but got no response, he hit him again.

"Conn?"

Nothing. He was alive and breathing, but out cold from the shock.

Murphy laid a hand down on his twin's side but quickly drew it back, crimson slicking his palm. There was a wound there on his brother's hip, curved like teeth. He pushed down Connor's shirt to cover it up, even readjusting his pants to hide it. Daryl knelt down on the other side of the blonde, cheeks pale and mouth tight.

"What the fuck...was _that_?" Daryl accused lowly, a predatory hiss to his voice that was almost never there when he spoke to them. He was angry and afraid. Murphy didn't blame him. The darker twin looked over his shoulder to find Rick glaring at him past Carl's head, cheeks still wet. The boy looked and started crying anew when he saw Connor and Amy.

"Shit" Murphy rubbed his brother's forehead, heat already blooming there "Fuckin' shit."

* * *

**How's that for a damn chapter, huh? Whew, that took a while. Hope everybody enjoyed themselves. That was Episode 4 of Season 1 of The Walking Dead. The next two chapters will be a Daryl Dreams and I think another installment of The Thugs series. I don't know, it's in my outline in that's in another notebook. Anyway...**

**Read and review, pretty please. Hope you guys are still reading :) See you next time!**


	16. Daryl's Dream III

_Three Days Before the Attack On the Camp_

The door slammed shut behind Daryl, jolting him out of his stupor. Like waking up, only that couldn't be true. He was here again. That house, _his_ house.

Daryl didn't have to look around, he knew where he was. He'd never seen this part of it though. He was standing in front of a door, the hall there spilling into the living room and the rest of the house. The side wall was lined in bookshelves, thick text books testing their strengths. Manuals, comics, and junk novels lined up unevenly and set off a strange outline. Empty bottles of beer peppered the room, the spatter of couches and beanbag chairs revealing it to be the main hang out. It was definitely a man's house. A large plasma TV was mounted on the wall, a plush foot stool on the floor in front of it. A man in an untucked white button up knelt on top of it, the shirt swallowing up his frame. Bare feet peeked out from dark dress pants.

On screen, soldiers shot down Nazi zombies.

The man turned, pale face framed by jet black hair.

"Hey Daryl" Glenn greeted warmly "Wanna play a round?"

"Nah" Daryl made his way further inside, trying to learn the new area. Glenn shrugged and turned back to the television, fingers flying over the buttons to kick virtual ass. Daryl could just get a peek of the kitchen from where he was standing. There was another room around the corner, probably a dining room.

"Hey, Glenn" Daryl began, finding it easier to talk to this casual/professional version of their runner "Where's-?"

"_Glenn_!"

Connor stormed in from the hallway. In an instant Daryl knew the clothes the blonde was wearing were his own, they hung loose on his frame. It sent a possessive streak up through his gut.. He looked furious, handsome face scrunched up in frustration. Glenn dropped the controller, the game pausing as the buttons mashed against the carpet.

"You little, irresponsible brat" Connor barked, grabbing the Korean by the shirt when he tried to bolt "Don't you dare try 'ta run., You got fired! No, not even fired."

Connor let go of the shirt in favor of his ear, pinching the flesh hard enough to make the other yelp.

"You threw a stapler at your boss's head!"

"He was a total douche and deserved it" Glenn protested, trying to squirm away "And I didn't mean to hit him, I just tossed it."

"You shouldn't have done it in the first place" Connor countered, accent thicker as his anger festered "This is the third job in two months. You want to move back in with your mum, is that it? Want to live with that step-da of yours?"

Glenn blanched at the mention of his step-dad. Daryl felt himself slip further into this reality, snapping back into place like a rubber band as the dream encompassed him.

"That's enough, the two of ya" Daryl drawled, breaking in between them "He's just a kid, Conn, give him a break."

Connor looked put out, like he'd expected Daryl to take his side.

"And _you_, ya little shit" he flicked Glenn in the head, wiping away his shit-eating grin "Start looking for a new job."

The boy's face fell, Daryl cracked a grin, "Tomorrow."

"Sweet" Glenn declared, swiping his remote up off the floor to continue playing. And just like _That_ he was back into it, ignoring them both. Connor started to puff up, looking much like a scorned cat, but didn't have time to explode before the redneck led him away toward the hall.

"You're always too soft on him."

"Am I?" Daryl inquired, genuinely curious about how he supposedly acted in this place.

"Ever since we took him in, you've coddled him" Connor accused hotly "He's practically a child which means _we_ have to raise him. If he doesn't learn responsibility _now_, when the hell is-?"

Daryl cut off the other man's rant with a swift kiss to the mouth. Connor made a noise of protest in his throat but soon gave into the the touch, slowly relaxing against the other until their chests met. Daryl didn't waste the opportunity to wrap his arm around the blonde's waist, something he wouldn't dare to do outside the dream. He got a little sigh in reward strong hands coming up to grip his shoulders.

"You're his friend, not his mother" Daryl pointed out gently "Let 'im make his own mistakes."

"Someone needs to keep them in line" Connor grumbled good-naturedly "If we let them, Murph and Glenn will burn the house down."

Daryl's smile faltered, mind flashing to half-rotted faced and clawing fingers, "Trust me. There's worse."

* * *

**So Daryl had this dream three days before the last chapter happened. So right before Merle went into town. The next chapter will be a dream as well, but it'll be Glenn's. It's cracky and hot. I think we all need some fluff before the next episode rips our heart out. Hope you guys enjoyed the little fluff reprieve**. **As always, I'm pathetic and crave reviews like nobody's business. **

**Remember to check out this fic's tumblr, link in the profile**

**See you all on the dance floor!**


	17. Glenn's Dream

**So Glenn had this dream right before the group went into Atlanta the first time, the morning Shane asked him to go with Murphy/Merle/Jacqui/Morales/T-Dog/Andrea. Basically, right as "Guts" starts. Ugh, that chapter makes me angry, it needs so much editing and I've already revised it twice. Ugh.**

* * *

_It was dark, the dead of night. Glenn blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog from his mind, but he couldn't shake it. All he could see was a door in front of him. Was he sleeping? Where was he? He couldn't see anything but a simple door in front of him. He reached out and grabbed the doorknob, twisting it hard and shouldering his way inside. _

_The light was blinding, searing his eyes. He slammed the door shut and put his back against it, _

_struggling to adjust to it. It took him a while but he soon realized he was in an empty bar. Just a clean dive place with rows of shiny, unmarked bottles lined up on the shelves behind the counter. Every booth was empty, only one person in the entire length of the room._

_The bartender._

"_Hey there, pretty boy."_

_The man was dark haired and about his height, wearing one of those loose sleeved poet shirts and a pair of ratty jeans. If the Irish lit to his voice hadn't given him away, Glenn would've been more shocked when he turned and revealed himself._

"_Murphy?" _

"_Don't wear it out, it's the only name I've got" the other was drying a glass, a grin on his face "Been waitin' for ya."_

"_Sorry" Glenn wasn't sure what else to say as he walked up to the bar "I guess I've been...somewhere else."_

"_Not anywhere fun, I'm sure" Murphy tossed the glass over his shoulder, letting it shatter across the floor "I'm the most entertainment you'll find around here."_

_A casual comfort settled on Glenn's shoulders, rinsing away his usual stress like a shower. He sat down at the bar, the polished wood chilly beneath his palms. It was a good kind of cold. Murphy leaned on the counter as well, all his intensity focused on the runner. It was almost enough to make him uncomfortable but that was how Murphy always made him feel: Too big for his skin. _

"_I wasn't lying earlier" Murphy stated, leaning on his hand "You're pretty for a chink."_

"_Thanks?"_

"_You know you're dreamin', right?"_

_Glenn took off his heat, scratching his hand through his hair, "I kind of figured. I feel clean and I'm not hungry at all."_

_Murphy wet his lips, "You know this is just temporary?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_You know I'm awful for ya?"_

"_I..." Glenn fingers flexed against the counter, nails scraping along the finish "I don't think I care."_

_Murphy reached out, curling his fingers his fingers in the Korean's shirt, "You know I'm only going to hurt ya in the end? That I'm too selfish, too broken, to be any use to you."_

"_Stop it" Glenn demanded, surprising his dream image "This isn't how I want this to go. If you're going to get into my head, you better make it worth it."_

_Murphy jumped up onto the bar. In one fluid motion he slid forward until his legs bracketed the younger man, trapping him, hand still twisted in his shirt. He was practically in his lap, he could feel his heat already. Glenn was about to suggest grabbing a booth when the Irishman pulled him up just a bit, the man burying his face in his neck._

"_Murph?" Glenn moaned, sucking in a heavy breath as lips and teeth danced across the sensitive skin. It was a warm pressure, more than welcome though he wished he could have it on his own mouth. He'd never dreamed of Murphy before, let alone had the (fake) chance to kiss him. He pushed into the sensation encouragingly, wanting whatever he could get out of this._

_The bell over the door chimed._

_Glenn looked over and his mouth fell open. It was Daryl who walked in but not a version he had ever seen before. He was used to a filthy redneck with sharp eyes, clothes torn and old from years of wear. This Daryl was smoothed out in dark jeans and a leather jacket, shades covering his eyes, fingerless gloves latched onto his hands. He looked like a badass. And, in contrast to the reality, he looked ridiculous. There was no way the real Daryl would ever squirm his way into clothes that tight._

_Functional vs. Pretty Damn Hot_

_Not that he was into him that way._

_Glenn laughed out loud, though it was breathier than he'd like with Murphy still kissing o his neck, "Oh my God."_

_The bell rang again, Connor came in this time. He was clad in all white, his sleeves torn off at the shoulder and ivory leather cuffs lacing up his forearms. Fuck, he looked great. A fine gold shimmer powder layered every inch of his skin, even across his face. With every step he showed off his luster, the light bouncing off him to cast a sort of aura around him. His smile was unrestrained. He looked...happy._

"_Don't wait up" Connor draped himself over Daryl's side, letting his head rest on the leather clad shoulder "Seems like yer busy anyway."_

_Daryl smirked, sliding his sunglasses up into his hair. His eyes were still blue but different, practically glowing the color of light mercury. Quicksilver, almost. They cast a glow themselves, throwing light along his cheeks and through his lashes. Close to demonic but not quite there. _

"_Shit" Glenn almost closed his eyes as Murphy started biting a hickey into his flesh, sending electric shocks through his chest with every dig of his teeth._

_Daryl pulled a knife from inside his jacket, a smooth razor edge to the weapon that his usual buck knife lacked. He slipped the edge under the blonde's jaw, laying across his neck and forcing him to tip his head back. Connor silently obeyed, allowing himself to get pulled up into a kiss. Glenn didn't want to admit how hot it was but it was more than the Irishman's nibbling that sent blood rushing to his cock. It was a dominant, Dixon-worthy display. The blade sliced into the sparkling flesh, blood bubbling up and welling around the edge until it started to trickle down the length of his shimmering neck. _

_But Connor didn't care. In fact, the pain seemed to only make him keen for it more. _

"_Connor?"_

_Sharp pain went through his own neck, pinpricks. Murphy drew away, scarlet staining his mouth. The Irishman grinned, revealing kittenish fangs that barely touched his lower lip._

"_See what we do?" Murphy's smile faded "We're not good for anyone."_

**xXx**

Glenn shot up in his sleeping bag, panting so loudly that it was all he could hear. His shirt clung to his sweat-slick back, hair damp with it. He kicked off the blankets and crawled to his tent flap, ripping down the zipper to let the early morning air cool his heated face.

"Crap" he puffed, collapsing back onto the bunched up blankets. That dream...it was too much. He could barely understand what had actually happened let alone what it meant. What kind of psychological-metaphor-sophomore-year crap was that? That the twins were dangerous? That they were self destructive? Had Daryl really been the dominant one?

Or had the brothers been running the show?

"Glenn?" that was Shane calling him from outside "You up?"

"Yeah" he croaked.

"You okay, kid?" he sounded closer this time.

"Just woke up" Glenn got up on his knees, zipping up his door a little more to hide his tired state "Give me a minute, okay?"

"Take your time" their leader sounded a little unsure of himself "I need to ask you a favor."

Glenn stretched and scratched through is hair, trying to wake himself up. The dream didn't fade one bit. He could still remember the glimmer of Connor's skin, the sheen of Daryl's unnatural eyes, the way Murphy's lips had felt against his neck.

What did it mean?

* * *

**More fluffy-ness. Now it's time to write the outlines for the next two main storyline chapters. I might keep going and write out the rest of the first season. This is just a one shot, this won't be a series-thing like The Thugs or Daryl's Dreams.**

**Leaving reviews makes me write faster *****_suggested wink_*******

**No, seriously, I love you, see you out in the world**


	18. Season 1 - Episode 5: Wildfire

**New chapter, woot-woot! You guys probably didn't notice but I'm changing up my writing style a little, including the correct comma usage for dialogue that my beta pointed out to me. Thank you very much. This chapter is still un-beta'd though, so try to ignore the mistakes and enjoy it.**

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While everyone was shedding tears and watching Andrea wail over he fallen sister, Murphy got his own sibling out of the fray and safetly into their tent. He cleaned Connor up as best he could but his twin was out like a light. He changed his brother's clothes and wiped off the blood with a rag and some bottled water. He placed a bandage over the savage bite and put a piece of tape over it to keep it in place.

Murphy laid one hand over Connor's forehead while the other clutched his rosary, praying in dizzying repetition until the fever grew hot under his palm and his eyes wouldn't stay open anymore.

**xXx**

The camp only managed to snag a few hours of sleep before the sun came up. The moment the fresh rays hit their tents they started to crawl out, unwilling but determined to sort the dead that rotted away across the compound. They'd lost so many it was hard to keep track but the all-too-familiar faces of Amy and Jim were among their tally. Shane issued the orders of walkers in one pile to be burned while those freshly dead were to be set aside for proper burial.

Andrea was the only one who had stayed up through the night. She hadn't moved from her sister's side, kneeling and leaning over her prone form. Slowly, as if in a dream, she pet through Amy's hair with bloody fingers and gazed down at her so lovingly it broke their hearts. There were still tears on her face but she'd quit sobbing hours ago.

Murphy stepped out of their tent to give his brother a moment to compose himself. He watched the camp closely but no one seemed hostile, they were too busy sorting and mourning to give the twins their attention. At least, not yet. Connor had been slow to wake up and he'd barely said anything other than to ask what had happened. Murphy had been honest and his brother had almost heaved all over their mound of blankets.

Connor stepped out of the tent, wincing and shielding his eyes from the sun. Murphy grabbed him and dragged him to the shade of the trees, keeping him out of sight.

"You know I love ya more than anythin', right? That I want to keep you safe?" Murphy asked, his brother nodded slowly, "Then you have to act normal, Conn. You have 'ta talk and help out or who knows what'll happen to ya."

"Murph..." Connor slurred, "Murph, I don't feel so good."

The darker twin could feel his constricting, eyes threatening to water up.

"I know, Conn, I know, I'm here. Don't you worry," Murphy cupped his twin's neck, cradling it, "_Time_, that's all we need. We just have to buy some time. They don't know what we know, they won't understand."

He blew out a sharp breath, he sounded as if he were trying to convince himself, "_Time._ Yeah."

Connor grabbed his brother's hand and brought it up to his cheek, rubbing into it, "Do'a feel hot?"

He was slurring and his skin was on fire. This wasn't good.

"No," Murphy lied with a tight voice, patting the blonde's cheek, "You're fine, you look great. Let's go."

As they walked through the camp it got worse. No one approached them but everyone was starting to look, sly sweeps of their eyes that let the twins know they were on thin ice. There weren't so many of them left now but it was enough to put an intimidating pressure in the air. Murphy led them to Shane on instinct, hoping to blend in.

"Boys," Shane greeted curtly.

"Where do we start?"

"That pile over there on fire, that's the dead. Haul walker bodies over there but _only_ after Dixon's put a hole in their heads. That line up by the woods? That's for our people," Shane gestured at a collected pile of clothing, "Grab gloves and a handkerchief, cover your mouth up and try not to breath in too much of that walker smoke."

The twins obeyed, though Connor was a bit slower on it. Murphy made sure most of his brother's lower face was covered by the handkerchief, hoping to conceal some of his dazed expression and flushed skin. Daryl passed by and swung his pickaxe down almost casually, crushing in the nearest skull. Murphy led his brother to the body and together they hauled it to the fire pit.

They had lugged two bodies before they realized that what was left of the group was gathering, talking about Amy. Apparently Lori and Rick had already tried to talk some sense into her but Andrea wasn't responding, she simply sat there and watched over her sister. Murphy touched his brother's shoulder and told him he'd be back in a second, walking over and joining the others.

"Y'all can't be serious," Daryl came up, pickaxe on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, "You're just gonna let that woman hamstring us? That dead girl's a time bomb."

Rick wiped his mouth with his rag, the taste of ash heavy on his teeth, "And what do you suggest?"

"Take_ the shot_" Daryl emphasized like the other was a kid struggling to keep up, "Clean, in the brain, from here. Shit. I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance. Connor can knock a bird out of the sky from ten more feet. It's nothin'."

"No," Lori stated resolutely, "For God's sakes, let her be."

Daryl watched Shane and Rick nod, obviously agreeing with the woman. He spat at the ground as he walked away, resisting the urge to tell them just how stupid they were being. He passed by Connor, the blonde looking down at the ground and still.

"Wake up, Clover," he patted him hard on the shoulder, "We got work to do."

Daryl didn't notice the way the Irishman had to shake himself awake, blinking hard and taking much too long to register what had just happened.

"Wah?"

**xXx**

The twins were in the middle of hauling a body when they heard it.

"Hey! What are you guys doing? This is for geeks. Our people go over there!"

Daryl and Morales didn't even pause, the redneck speaking up, "What's the difference? They're all infected."

Glenn was the one complaining, "Our people go in that row over there."

The two older men finally stopped, turning to look at the Korean. Glenn's hands were trembling in his gloves, a desperate pull to his lips.

"We don't _burn_ them!" Glenn sounded raw, close to tears, but only for a second, "We bury them. Understand?"

Daryl looked at the boy and all he could see was the Glenn from his dreams. The innocent one that smiled so freely and had offered him a turn on his video game, oblivious to the threat of the dead. It was the way he'd like to think Glenn had been before the world went to shit. And just like _that_ he felt bad for the kid and his big heart. Maybe Daryl couldn't muster up any feelings for these people but Glenn could, their deaths seeming to cut him pretty deep.

Murph dropped the body, grabbing his brother hand and squeezing it instead, "Stay here."

"Yeah," Connor watched his twin leave with bleary eyes, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

Murphy slipped between the redneck and the Latino, grabbing the dead man under the arms, "I got this, it's fine. I'll put 'im over there."

Daryl's eyes never left Glenn's, "Hold up. I'll help."

Morales nodded silently and grabbed the body's feet, the redneck taking up the middle. Halfway there, Daryl realized just how easily he was giving in. He could practically hear Merle snarling at him, demanding to know why he was compromising his life (his safety) for some overemotional chink boy without the common sense God gave rocks. The boy could barely hold his own, why the fuck did he have a say in the compound decisions? Merle had ranted to him a hundred times about how they should run the place since they contributed most of the food.

_It's all about who gives the most, baby brother, don't you fuckin' forget that. _

The words spilled out of him before he could think twice.

"You reap what you sow."

"You know what?" Morales dropped the body at the start of the pile, scowling, "Shut up, man."

Murphy huffed as he lined up the corpse. He was used to the redneck's temper tantrums by now, this was no surprise.

"Y'all left my brother for dead!" Daryl barked, heading back toward his pickaxe, "You had this coming!"

Just a bit away, Connor could barely hear over the sound of his own panting.

"Hey there, baby," Jacqui walked over to where the Irishman stood, "Need some help?"

Connor nodded slowly, wiping his face off with his handkerchief before tying it back around his neck.

"Here, let's get this out of the way," Jacqui knelt down, grabbing the corpse's feet, "You just grab him under the shoulders and..."

She trailed off as she looked up, spotting fresh blood blooming across the Irishman's shirt, "Are you bleedin'?"

Connor shook his head, absently wiping a hand down the front of his shirt, "I just got some blood on me from the bodies. That's all."

"That blood's fresh," the sweetness drained from her voice, "Were you bit?"

Connor leaned over to grab the body but he just couldn't manage, he was too weak, "Nah, just had a walker run into me during the attack, that's all."

"If you're fine then show me," Jacqui demanded, standing up.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, watching the horror fill her face, "I just wanted to stop the killin', I didn't think-"

"A walker got him!" Jacqui shouted to the others, backing away, "A walker bit Connor!"

In an instant the camp turned it's attention to him, their gazes burning his skin worse than the fever. He stumbled back, looking for a weapon but finding none. He held up his hands, hoping to avoid a violent panic that resulted in a knife to the throat or a bullet to the head. The group was crowding fast and everyone seemed to have something or other in their hands that could kill him.

Murphy, who had been trying to pry a baseball bat out from under a corpse, jumped to his feet.

"Connor!" he called, pushing past Morales to get to his brother's side, "Stop it, all of you! He's fine!"

Daryl approached, eyes darting between the brothers, "Prove it. Show it to us."

Murphy practically threw himself in front of his twin, holding out his hand as if to stop him, "No, Daryl, I'm pleadin' with ya. He'll be okay, if you just-"

"Grab 'em both!" Shane barked out the command and it was followed as swiftly as it was delivered. T-Dog came up behind the brothers, snagging Connor below the arms and up into a full Nelson that left him helpless. Daryl was torn between helping his friends and saving the camp from possible infection. So he stood there, limp, weapon resting uselessly on his shoulder. Glenn surged forward and snagged Murphy around the waist, the brunette dragging his heels through the dirt as he was yanked away.

"You're not helping, just let them look," Glenn beseeched, straining to hold him back.

Shane and Rick came close to the limp blonde, both finding it odd he didn't even fight the hold. It was Shane who pushed up Connor's shirt, revealing his bandage. Swallowing thickly, Grimes eased the tape off until a messy ring of teeth indentions appeared. They were across his hip, a perfect height for that legless walker who had got the jump on him.

"Shit!" Daryl threw down his pickaxe, "Fuckin' _shit_!"

"I'm okay," Connor promised half-heartedly, already seeing the resolution on their faces, "I-I'll be okay."

T-Dog dropped his hold, getting away from him as quickly as he could. Connor swayed where he stood, feeling too hot and achy to put up anymore of a fight.

"Animals," Murphy accused, ripping out of Glenn's limp arms. He went over to Connor and grabbed his waist, taking most of his weight. He tipped their heads together, both sets of blue eyes shut tight against the world.

The problems of Merle and too few rabbits were only a happy memory now.

**xXx**

Murphy sat his brother in the shade of the RV before joining the others where they crowded together to discuss the issue.

"I'm through messin' with this shit," T-Dog hissed through his teeth, "Put _that_ pickaxe through _his_ head and Amy's and be done with it."

"Shut your fuckin' mouth," Daryl glowered, "No one asked you."

"Fine," the black man held out his hand, "Give it to me and _I'll_ do it."

Daryl's knuckled went white around the handle of the weapon, "I'd like to see you come over here and take it from me."

"Stop fightin' you two," Rick spat, "This is not the time."

"Maybe he's right," Dale admitted reluctantly.

"Connor's not a monster," Murphy argued heatedly, "Or some rabid dog to be shot in the backyard. He's my brother."

Dale looked affronted, "I'm not suggesting-"

"He's just sick," Murphy grabbed the sheriff's arm, searching his face for any sympathy, "He's just got a fever, Rick, that's all. He'll be fine."

"He won't be _fine_," Shane protested.

"Stop it," Rick gestured sharply, "If we start killing the ones still breathing, where do we draw the line?"

"Zero tolerance for walkers and those-to-be," T-Dog jabbed a finger at the redneck, "You said that yourself."

"Can't we get him help?" Carol was wringing her hands, looking over to the infected Irishman. The blonde was still sitting where his twin had put him, knees brought up to his chest and arms wrapped around him. His face was hidden, back shaking as he panted out the heat of his fever.

"Maybe we can get him help," Rick insisted, "I heard the CDC was working on a cure."

"I heard that too," Shane drawled, "Heard a lot of things before the world went to hell."

"What if the CDC is still up and running," he countered.

"Man, that is a stretch right there."

"Why? If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the CDC at all costs, wouldn't they? I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection-"

Daryl could feel frustration growing like a savage beast within his chest, pushing out against his ribcage and forcing sharp breaths out through his nose. He was half dizzy from the heat and the heavy stank of the dead and the thought of _his Connor_ being bit. There was so much he didn't know, so much they hadn't explored, and Merle was _still_ fucking gone.

"Okay, Rick, you want those things, all right? I do too, okay? Now if they exist, they're at the army base. Fort Benning."

Daryl could feel his fists shaking. He had no family left, no real friends (but he never had, not really), and no connections.

"That's a hundred miles in the opposite direction."

Daryl started to pile up every interaction he'd ever had with Connor, stacking them up, weighing them. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to erase the man, plucking him out of each memory and struggling to rebuild his life around the angel-shaped holes left behind. It felt empty and it hurt but it could be done.

"That's right. But it's away from the hot zone. Now listen to me. If that place is operational it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there."

He didn't need Connor. He didn't need anyone.

"The military were on the front lines of this thing. We've got overrun, we've all seen that! The CDC is our best choice and Connor's only chance."

Everyone was going to die. Why not sooner rather than later?

"I don't wanna hear no more of this! We've got women and children, we have to think about them," T-Dog butted in, "Y'all are actin' like he's a special case or somethin'."

"He's my brother!" Murphy shoved the man's shoulder, getting a glare, "He's _your_ friend, all of ya. You're talking about puttin' an axe through his head and you think we're givin' him _special treatment_?"

Rick got between them, pushing them apart as best he could.

"You go lookin' for aspirin, do what you need to do," Daryl hefted his pickaxe up, turning and heading toward the RV with sure steps, "Someone needs to put their balls on and get rid of this damn problem!"

Rick drew his pistol the same moment Murphy screamed for him to stop, hurrying after the redneck. Connor heard his declaration and quickly uncurled, pushing away from the RV and scrambling back and away. Daryl watched his friend's eyes go impossibly wide, shiny from the fever. The sun caught in the spikes of his hair and gleamed, reminding him not for the first time of a halo. The Dixon froze in his tracks, the other two men followed suit. Daryl's jaw was set tight in determination, pickaxe over his shoulder and ready to swing. Connor just stared up at him, doing nothing to fight. Behind him his arms quivered where they supported his weight, going weak. He dropped his head, like he couldn't stand to watch it happen.

No, he couldn't do it. He couldn't just wipe away Connor like grime. The man was kind and _real_, too good for this new world. He wasn't going to be the one to take him out of it. He couldn't bare it.

Daryl dropped his weapon until the heavy end thudded against the dirt, still looking down at the Irishman. His chest heaved once in a hard sigh before he turned away, jolting when he saw that Rick was pointing a pistol at him.

"We don't kill the living," Rick stated solemnly, clicking off the safety.

"Even though you got a gun to my head..." Daryl swallowed past the lump in his throat, "I'm inclined to agree."

"Hand it over," Shane demanded, holding out his hand. The redneck scoffed but eventually let the handle roll out of his fingers, landing against the other's palm.

The cop eyed him, "Go take a minute."

"Shut up, Walsh."

But Daryl walked away, refusing to look back even as Murphy demanded to know what the fuck was wrong with him. He went over to the firepit and shed his blood-stained gloves, tossing them in the fire, grabbing some new ones.

Rick stepped up and offered the blonde his hand, "Come with me."

Connor stared at the offered digits, remembering his dream of bright blue eyes and a desperate leader. After a moment's hesitation Rick mistook for rebellion, Connor took his hand and let him help him up.

"Where are you taking him?" Murphy demanded as he watched the sheriff hook his twin under the arm and lead him toward the door of the camper, "Connor?"

" 'M okay, Murphy," Connor touched his arm as he passed, "Trust 'im."

And that's all they could do.

**xXx**

Glenn waited until Grimes had disappeared with the lighter twin into the RV before he approached Murphy, sorrow and nerves mixing up into a tight knot within his stomach. He grabbed the man by the shoulder and forced him around, wanting to look at him. The hurt on Murphy's face almost made him stop.

_Almost._

"How long did you know?" he demanded.

Murphy didn't even pretend to misunderstand him, "The whole time."

"Then how long were you going to let him walk around like that?!"

The Irishman just stared down at the ground, shoulders hunched as if he were waiting to be hit. Glenn grabbed him by the arms, giving him a sharp shake that snapped him out of it.

"How did you command the walkers?" Glenn gushed, unable to hold it in anymore, "How could you both do it?"

Murphy looked around at the others, still close enough to pick up on their conversation, "Stop it."

"Why the hell should I show you some consideration when you didn't do it for us?" Glenn shook him again, "Jesus, Murph, what if he bit and turned you? Aren't you thinking of anyone but yourself? There's a whole camp of people here! Couldn't you just think of _us_ for _one_ minute?"

"My brother comes first!" Murphy shoved him away as hard as he could, "Always! Before you, or God, or _anyone_!"

Glenn took a deep breath, deciding in the span of simple seconds that he wasn't about to help the twins any longer.

"They can talk to walkers!"

Glenn hollered it as loud as he could, backing off the twin. Murphy blanched and the Korean immediately felt horrible, but there couldn't be anymore secrets. Near the RV, Andrea looked up for the first time with sober eyes.

T-Dog was the first to respond, "What the fuck you talkin' about?"

"It wasn't a fluke, he can talk to walkers," Glenn clarified, "They listen to him and Connor."

Shane stormed up to the Irishman, grabbing him by the meat of his neck, "You little fucker! What is he saying?"

Murphy flinched, trying to shake his head, "I..."

"You can't talk to them," Rick came out of the RV and shut the door, brow pinched, "You just _can't_. They're mindless things, nothing else. There's no more human left in them."

"Just because they shouted at the walkers and made them stop doesn't mean they can talk to them," Lori reasoned calmly, sensing just how bad this could get.

"There's nothing to talk _to_," Daryl tapped his finger to his head, "Ain't nothin' up in here no more."

By the RV, Andrea jolted out of her stupor by the twitch of her sister's body. Amy (_not Amy_, _not Amy_) was starting to stir. She got to her feet and ran over, elbowing past Shane and digging her fingers into the Irishman's shirt.

"Prove it!" she yanked him toward her sister, he tried ease out of her grip but she was stronger than she looked.

"Andrea-"

"I need to say good-bye, I _need_ it."

"Please, don't do this to yourself," Murphy urged, "They're wrong, I can't talk to 'em. They're not really listening, they're just responding."

Andrea pushed him to his knees beside her sister, taking the other side, "Do it."

Murphy could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat as he watched Amy's eyes open, discolored now. He was sick at the sight but everyone was watching, the murderous look on Andrea's face telling him he had no other choice.

"Amy?" Murphy croaked as she her hands started to come up, fingers curling along his forearms, "Stop. I know you're hungry...don't do it. Don't bite."

Amy tried to sit up but he put his palms on her shoulders, keeping him down with only as much force as needed. She was whining, obviously smelling Andrea and the others. The camp was soaked in blood, she was probably drooling for it.

"We're here," he cooed, she looked up at him, "We love you."

Amy made this chittering noise in the back of her throat in response.

"I'm sorry for turin' you away," Murphy husked as he cupped her cheek, each word like sawdust on his tongue, "I wish I coulda made you happy. You were a nice girl."

Amy turned her head and licked up his palm. He shuddered and nearly wretched.

"Tell her," his voice wavered as he swallowed back down the contents of his stomach, "Now."

Everyone was hypnotized. Daryl wanted to go over and put a stop to it, drag Murphy off and keep him away from the others, but he couldn't move. His feet felt stuck to the grass.

Amy's grip started to get harsher, nails digging into his skin as she tried to claw her way past Murphy to her sister. He kept hushing her but she was barely paying attention with the hot scent of human (_food_) so close to her.

"Amy..." Andrea wet her lips, laying her hand across her sister's stomach, "Amy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not ever being there. I always thought...there'd be more time."

"Be there for her now," Murphy tightened his grip on the walker's shoulder, "End it."

Andrea's lower lip quivered, "I-I can't."

"God damn it, woman, she's still dead!" the Irishman almost jerked his hands away when Amy started scratching him but he held tight, "I didn't do anything! I'm not a miracle worker, I'm human – just like you. But Amy's a walker now and you can't leave her like this."

Andrea shook her head, fingers tight around her gun.

"For Christ's sake, your her _sister_, do somethin'!"

Murphy ripped his hands out of Amy's grip, scrambling to his feet and walking away. Tears were cutting through the dirt on his cheeks, heart breaking for more than just the dead girl. Connor could end up like that and he just couldn't take it. He heard Amy growling now but didn't turn back, keeping his head down and his feet moving.

"I love you."

Murphy's stride faltered as he heard the gunshot, a sob wrenching itself from him.

He couldn't even choke out a prayer.

**xXx**

The camp was already exhausted and the sun was barely at it's peak in the sky. The gun shot that had taken Amy still echoed in all their heads. Though they'd known it was coming it had hit them all like a shock, leaving them staring aimlessly and perched on logs. Murphy had turned quiet and was mindlessly loading the bodies of their dead companions onto the Dixon's truck.

"Let him do it," Shane had thrown out to the other men, the ones standing around watching the Irishman lug the corpses with a single-mindedness that bordered on terrifying, "Stay out of his way."

The two cops walked away from the others, taking some times for themselves behind the treeline. They hadn't had a chance to talk in private about the next part of the group's life.

"I know what you're going to say," Rick held up his hand, reading the man's thoughts all over his face, "But I think the CDC is our best choice."

"I'd feel better at an army base."

"So would I," Rick confessed, "But Murphy helped saved my life. And he may not act like it, but those twins are the only reason Daryl's even sticking around now. So we can either lose two hunters and one of our best men _or_ we can do everything we can to save Connor and maybe the other two will stick around."

Shane's jaw ticked, he couldn't disagree, "Kind of cold for you. Do you even give a shit about that kid?"

"Connor's a good man, it's a shame he got bit," blue eyes strayed to the RV, "If the CDC has a cure, it'll be a God send."

He looked back to see disbelief lingering on his best friend's face, "I just want what's best for all of us, brother, you gotta believe me."

That title, the camaraderie, struck Shane in the chest like a fist. It brought back a hundred different memories of sitting in their squad car laughing about stupid shit, half-assing their job just to fuck around with one another. They were some of the best times in his life. He'd give anything to have it all back, especially before Lori.

"Guess I've just been taking care of all of 'em for so long that I forgot I..."

Rick reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, giving his best friend a little shake, "You can rely on me, you know that."

Shane took in a shuddering breath, overwhelmed at the touch and the affectionate tone, "I missed you, Rick. I really tried to save you."

"I know, brother," he stepped closer, "I know."

Shane felt swamped, drowning in the memory of what they used to be. The squad car at night, the feel of the back seat under his knees, the burn of stubble along his thighs and down his neck. He could vividly remember licking the taste of stale coffee out of his partner's mouth and it shouldn't have made him as hard as it did. He closed that last bit of distance between them and stole the deputy's mouth. His lips were warm and dry, the faintest trace of wood smoke clinging to them. For a moment Rick gave in, pushing into him. Long enough to break Shane open and melt him together all over again.

Then he pulled away, stealing himself away not for the first time in their life.

"We can't do this," Rick explained, voice strained, "I told you on my wedding night, that was _it_. Lori's my wife, Shane."

Shane scowled, thinking of the oh-so-precious _Lori_ and how she'd moaned like a slut beneath him. She'd done a poor job substituting for the real Grimes. He'd rather stay here and take chaste kisses from Rick than put that woman on her stomach one more time. He had half a mind to say it.

"What the hell does that matter anymore?" Shane grit out, "The world's gone to shit."

"All the more reason to stick to some morals," Rick put a hand on his best friend's chest to push him away but sighed instead.

"You know what you mean to me," Rick brushed his thumb across the man's jaw, "You, Lori, and Carl were all I could think about when I got out of that hospital. But I can't do this to her. Try to understand."

Shane parted his lips, ready to tell him everything, but he knew deep down it would only drive them all farther apart. Rick's hand lingered along his neck, a familiar weight.

"I wish it was different," the slighter man admitted.

Shane gave a weak smile, "Me too."

**xXx**

With the addition of Murphy, the two cops decided to sweat out the strangely intimate moment. They grabbed shovels and continued the work Jim had started with the graves. The others were back down in the compound taking care of Andrea and hauling Amy's body in the flatbed. Lori said she wanted to make sure the walkers were burned to a crisp before she let them out of her sight. Precaution was all they had left.

They didn't speak for a long time.

Rick shoved his tool in the ground, wiping the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief.

"If you hadn't taken half our man-power, there wouldn't be so many holes to dig," Shane commented off-handedly, getting a glare for his effort.

"Don't start. It's not going to help anything now."

Shane spat in the dirt, piercing the ground as hard as he could with each swing to work out some of his welling frustration. The truck came up the path backward, their campmates bodies wrapped up tight in the back. The others were making the dredge up the hill, dragging their feet. The vehicle parked and out came Daryl, still looking sore. He walked toward them, eyes following Murphy's hollow movements.

"I still think it's a mistake not burnin' these bodies," Daryl threw out there, "It's what we said we'd do, right? Burn 'em all, wasn't that the idea?"

"At first," Shane corrected, still digging.

"The Chinaman gets all emotional," Daryl kept his voice low as Glenn approached, though he wasn't sure why, "Says it's not the thing to do, and we just follow along? These people need to know who's in charge here, what the rules are."

"There are no rules," Rick snapped, getting the redneck to shut up.

"Well, that's a problem," Lori sounded rough, arms crossed defensively over her chest, "We haven't had one minute to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn and we need to bury our dead. It's what people _do_."

It was Carol who finally voiced what they all wanted to say, "So...they don't eat you?"

Murphy dug his shovel in hard, eyes still on the ground "Not unless they haven't eaten in a long time or they're all riled up in a mob. At least, from what I can tell."

"Shit" T-Dog throws the first body off the truck, Carol's hands coming down to cover her daughter's ears "That's not fuckin' fair!"

Rick held out his hand placatingly, thinking of the children, "Chill, man."

"No, dawg, its' not fair to the rest of us!" T-Dog snarled, "These little brats get a free pass and _we_ get eaten alive?"

"If you haven't noticed, my brother got fuckin' bit!" Murphy threw down his shovel, "We're not exactly sparklin' fuckin' clean."

"How'd you even find out?" Daryl demanded, "How'd you know they won't eat you?"

Murphy got quiet, trying to quickly piece together a story to tell them. He couldn't tell them about the scars on his torso and wrists but he could give them the rest.

"We stayed with a small group within the city for a while," Murphy began, digging half heartedly now.

"You mean Ron's group?" Rick asked.

The Irishman froze, "How the hell did you know that?"

"We ran into some of his friends."

"One of them got bit," Murphy pushed through, praying they didn't know about what happened in that alley, "Conn and I were the only ones who would stay with him. We sponged him down, prayed for him, took care of him as best we could while the others abandoned him. The guy, Rick, said we smelled different. The fever was so strong and he hurt so much...it calmed him down to smell our wrists or necks. Wherever the pulse was strongest."

Daryl made a condescending sound, "You probably smelled like food."

"No, not food. He never once tried to take a bite," Murphy got out of the grave, tossing aside his shovel, "He said we smelled _pure_, not like the rest of the group. He said it was like we were all he was looking for. Like..._redemption_."

Some of the others were glaring, doubt painting their faces.

"I know it sounds stupid," Murphy conceded, "But the fever was eatin' him up pretty good, I think he was delusional. But it's what happened and I've got no reason to make it up."

"So what?" T-Dog needled, "They afraid of you?"

"I just don't know," he grit his teeth as he tried not to snap, "It's like they respect us or somethin', you saw it."

"Like priests," Shane added dryly.

Murphy couldn't stand there a moment longer, "I paid my respects to Amy, so if ya'll don't mind, so if ya don't mind, I'm gonna go tend to my brother."

"We ain't done with you yet," Shane snagged him as he walked by, "There's a lot you haven't told us and we deserve the truth."

Murphy threw the older man's hand off, "And my brother deserves proper care."

**xXx**

The RV wasn't much cooler than outside but the shade of the tree limbs above it gave it an advantage. Murphy lugged in a few jugs of water, pouring one into a deep salad bowl and put the other two by the bed for his brother to drink. He found some rags in the cabinets and took them as well.

Connor was laid out on the only bed in the RV, shirt discarded on the floor and pants undone to give his skin as much air as he could. His tan flesh was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the bandage on his stomach half assed (the tape hadn't stayed and he'd gotten tired of fucking with it).

"Pillow's softer than ours," was the first thing out of his twin's mouth.

"Lucky," Murphy teased, sitting down on the bed. He wet a cloth and started dabbing along the hot expanse of flesh before him, trying to ease his pain as best he could.

"Was afraid you'd been taken out," Connor confessed with a grin, "Thought I'd have to fight my way out of here."

"You know you would've felt it if they'd pulled an Old Yeller on me."

"Ain't that more appropriate for me?"

"Shut up," Murphy laid the cloth across his twin's forehead, getting a sigh, "I'm the best ally you'll ever have, so you better be nice."

"Christ," he pulled a face, baring his neck for his twin to try and cool, "Hurts worse than I thought it would."

Murphy wasn't sure what to say, "Rick said we'll be heading to the CDC to get help. He wants to find a cure for ya."

"We both know that won't help."

"At least you're more lucid now," Murphy offered, "I thought I'd lost ya to the fever completely earlier."

"I don't remember much, 'ta be honest."

"You were pretty out of it."

Connor grabbed his twin's hand when he went to clean the bite, "I'm sorry."

Murphy's cocked his head, brow knitted, "For what? Tryin' 'ta save everyone and gettin' yourself bit?"

"No. For leavin' ya when you needed me," Connor ran his thumb just above his brother's pulse point, "I left to go get an ungrateful fuck who tried to kill me and got away doin' it. I should've stayed until Daryl got back. I shouldn't have hit you and walked away."

"You were angry," Murphy raised his hand to his lips, bussing a kiss across his knuckles, "I shouldn't have said that bit about Daryl, wasn't my place and it wasn't right. Guess I was just angry myself."

"You were hurt," he looked down at his thigh, "How is it?"

"Much better, I burned it closed."

"Thas' good," Connor let him go, "Brace yourself, it's kinda bad."

"Worse than mine was?"

"Maybe."

Murphy peeled back the damp gauze and examined the wound. The bite was sloppy and torn, like the walker had shaken his head after clamping down. The blood was caking and dark in most places but towards the center of each indention it was still shiny, ready to gush at the slightest pressure. He washed the rag out and softened his touch as much as he could to clean it up.

"They told you what happened in Atlanta?" Connor asked through clenched teeth, trying to distract himself, "About Merle druggin' me? About the spics?"

The darker twin frowned, "The spics."

"Some guy named G was friends with Ron, told the group about how we used to run with them. He told them that his group was killed in an alley."

"Fuck."

Connor watched his brother pale even more, giving him a sallow look, "They don't know we ran away."

"Let's not talk about it anymore," Murphy rushed.

"Understandable. Lost my lunch just from mentioning it."

"I'm close to it and I've been haulin' dead bodies all morning."

"How'd you get away?" he sighed in relief when the pressure stopped.

"Told them my brother was my first priority," Murphy replied as he washed out the rag again. He missed the adoring look that crossed his brother's face, the smile on his lips that faded under a pulse of pain from his hip.

"Daryl was goin' to kill me, wasn't he?" Connor inquired, "Be honest."

"Just for a second," he admitted.

"As he should," the blonde hid the hurt from his tone, "If it was anyone else I wouldn't be surprised. Guess it's lucky we're friends."

"He'd never be able to go through with that" Murphy dabbed across his wrists, cooling where the blood was hottest, "You know he couldn't. The way he looked at you..."

"Don't," Connor clenched his eyes shut, "If I lose to this, I'd rather not think about maybes."

"Then let me tell you about Glenn."

Murphy told him all about how the boy had ratted them out, how the group knew now and that most of them weren't happy about it. He told him about T-Dog's thoughts of unfairness and Carol's worry, Shane's accusation and Rick's sympathy. He made it sound like an epic campfire story rather than a terrifying situation he hadn't been sure he'd live through.

"Let that air out a bit," Murphy nodded toward the bite, "A little while at least."

"Yeah," the blonde pushed the pillow further under his pillow, "You know you're my other half, dontcha?"

Murphy's hand balled up into a fist in the cloth, "Don't you fuckin' dare start tryin' to say good-bye or some shit."

" 'M not, just don't want you to get angry."

"About what?"

Connor offered a smile, "Do ya think Daryl would talk to me?"

His brother saw his reasoning and relented, leaning down and kissing his forehead in a silent forgiveness for picking to see the redneck over him. He wasn't about to deny his twin the right to see someone he cared about, no matter how jealous it made him.

"I can ask."

Connor brushed their noses together before his brother pulled away, cracking a smile, "God couldn't have sent me a more perfect brother."

Murphy didn't get five feet out of the camper before he started to tear up again.

**xXx**

Connor wasn't sure how long he waited for the Dixon to show up but he slipped under the heat of the infection before too long. He slept through the delusions, suffering splotchy nightmares that consisted of clawing fingers and terrorized screams. He only woke up to the sound of his own panting and the creak of the camper door. He whipped his brother's Rambo knife out from under his pillow and brandished it defensively.

It was just Daryl. The man had jumped at the sight of his knife but he didn't make a move to run.

"Jesus," Connor cursed, tucking the blade away before plopping back down on the pillow, "Sorry. Startled me is all. I just woke up."

Daryl nodded, slowly making his way over to the bed. His throat was too dry for words, only getting worse the longer he stared at the dark bite mark curling along the Irishman's hip. It really drove in the reality of just how deep in shit they were. Thankfully the air didn't have that distinctly sick smell that lingered around people with the flu or a cold. It just smelled like Connor, only warmer.

Daryl wanted to apologize for what he'd tried to do but he didn't know how. Instead he sat down on the bed and grabbed a packet of gauze, ripping it open with his teeth. Being careful he laid it over the bite, pressing down only enough to make it stick. The blonde hissed under his breath but tried to smile.

"Thanks," Connor realized it was as close to a I'm sorry as he was going to get, "No need to tape it, I just sweat it off."

"It hurt much?" the Dixon asked, though he knew it had to be agonizing.

"Just a bit," his voice was restrained.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, "How do you feel?"

A blonde brow raised, "Like I almost got a chunk of me stomach ripped out."

"I mean..." he looked the other man over, trying to find something different about him, "Do you feel like your changin'?"

"Nah," Connor waved it off, though his hand felt much too heavy, "I just feel the fever."

"Huh," Daryl dug his tongue into the side of his cheek, the air in the room still tense, "Murph said you wanted to see me?"

"I just wanted you to know that I forgive you."

Daryl's head snapped back to him, finding the blonde giving him a half-smile, "What?"

"I wanted to see you again" Connor confessed "And I didn't want there 'ta be bad blood between us."

"There ain't no bad blood" Daryl promised "I just want to know why the fuck you didn't tell me about all this. About talkin' to walkers and you gettin' bit. You didn't think I deserved to know since you got bit savin' my ass? I understand the others, but I thought we-"

The older man bit off his own words, teeth clicking as he snapped his mouth shut.

"I could barley think," Connor shot back, " 'Sides, you came at me with a pickaxe, what the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"_Shit_, whatever man," Daryl tried to get up but a hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. He flinched before he could stop himself. Connor retracted his hand, hurt etching itself across his face and deep into his eyes.

"I won't touch you, I'm sorry," he rushed, hoping he wouldn't leave.

" 'S fine," Daryl muttered, sitting back down.

"I understand why you were gonna do it," Connor laid back down, his side throbbing from the sudden movements, "I would've done the same for you. Wouldn't want you to suffer."

Daryl could barely look him in the eyes, "I can't kill you."

It did his heart good to hear it, "I know."

They were quiet except for the blonde's soft panting. Daryl tugged a small water bottle out of his pocket, handing it over.

"See that Murph beat me to the water. Thought you'd need it."

"Appreciate it all the same," he twisted off the cap and took a long pull. He treated it like a shot of courage, the real reason he wanted Daryl here harder to get out than he thought it would be.

"If I turn..." he started, heart growing heavy in his chest.

Daryl frowned at _if_.

"Then I want it to be you who shoots me," Connor clarified, "Don't let Murph do it, he won't he able to live with himself. If I turn I need you to take care of him."

Daryl saw the other man getting choked up and it only made him feel worse, "Conn?"

"Don't leave him alone, _please,_" he wasn't too proud to beg, not when it came to his brother, "I know you probably hate us for Merle, but Murph needs someone-"

"Stop," Daryl clamped a hand over Connor's mouth, and that intimate gesture meant more than words, "If that happens, I'll watch over 'im. I swear it."

He pulled the other man's hand down, looking into his eyes, "And if you leave?"

"If I leave these fuckers behind, I'll take him with me."

Connor visibly relaxed, still holding onto his hand, "Thanks, Daryl."

"It's what friends do, ain't it?" he grunted out, trying not to get too mushy, "Hold up..."

Daryl grabbed the still-damp rag off the counter, bring it down to wipe off the blonde's forehead. Connor was staring up at him with more than gratitude in his eyes. It made something in his chest hollow out, like being hungry but not quite.

"There" he set it aside "You're really burnin' up."

Connor couldn't agree more.

**xXx**

Murphy got away from the others, taking one of the trees at the edge of camp for his own. He put his back against it as he cleaned his gun, trying to think of things that didn't involve his infected brother or the camp's suspicion. The mechanical, thoughtless motions of cleaning and oiling gave him some peace. It was something he and his brother had learned together at a young age, their mother insisting that they learn how to defend themselves properly.

"_That's all they do in America. Just shoot and shoot. Ya might as well be the best at it."_

"Ma," he breathed into the sky like a prayer, "Da."

Lord above, he missed them.

He watched Glenn approach, the boy filthy from his cap to his sneakers. He looked hesitant but not as angry as he had earlier.

"Hey," Glenn spoke up, standing in front of him with his hands behind his back, "Can I sit down?"

Murphy slid the barrel back in place with an audible click, "I ain't gonna stop ya."

Glenn sat down beside him, shedding his hat and letting it lay in the grass. He wiped the sweat from his eyes but he only ended up smearing dirt across his forehead. A rag appeared in front of his face, the Irishman offering without ever looking at him.

"I'm sorry" Glenn finally said as he took the rag and wiped his face off "I just...lost it there for a second. And now you're mad at me and Daryl's not talking and Connor's _bit_ and I'm just really sorry I told them everything."

"You're a frightened kid," it was backhanded but Glenn couldn't get angry, "I never explained it. It's my fault, I guess. If I'd just let you know maybe you wouldn't have done it."

"I don't know if I would've believed you," he replied truthfully, "The fact that they listen, that they don't always come after you...it's crazy."

"You hate me too for it?"

"No," Glenn protested quickly, "It makes sense though. No wonder you guys could live in the woods or in the city like that and not worry. And if it wasn't true then I'd be dead."

Murphy looked confused.

"Back in the quick stop when we ran for supplies. You saved me."

Murphy's lips quirked, "Right. How could I forget?"

"So..." Glenn drew out, "Are we cool?"

"You're such a shit," Murphy chuckled, "Yeah, we're fine. Don't let it happen again or I'll shoot you."

Glenn started to laugh but winced when he realized it was probably true. He waited a few moments before he managed to ask the question he'd been thinking about since Connor was bit.

"If Conn turns, could you do it? Could you kill him?"

"No, I couldn't," he replied, breathing in the scent of gun oil to keep him calm, "It'd be like shooting myself."

"But you told Andrea-"

"Andrea didn't share a crib with her sister," he cut him off sharply, "Connor's more than blood, more than family, he's my other half. And to be honest..."

The gun nearly slipped out of his hand.

Glenn laid his hand on the Irishman's arm, "What?"

"To be honest I don't want to live out the rest of this apocalypse without him," Murphy looked over at him, the resignation on his face stealing the breath from Glenn's lungs, "If he dies, I'm done."

"Done?"

Murphy tapped the full assembled gun against his chin, "_Done_."

**xXx**

Daryl stepped out of the cancer, the thought of the fever still making his skin itch. Connor had finally drifted off to sleep and he looked like he needed it.

Shane came up to him, the brim of his cap low over his eyes, "Get that bike of yours loaded up in the truck. We're leaving in an hour."

"Someone else can drive it," Daryl countered, "I'm gonna stay in the RV with Connor."

Rick heard him from the fire pit and his gut told him to go over, his feet quickly obeying.

Walsh's next words blind-sided him, "Your little boyfriend will be fine by himself. Now get your shit in your truck."

Daryl's upper lip drew back in a feral snarl, he surged forward with an intent to snap the man's neck. Rick grabbed him around the waist and dragged him away, barely getting his friend out of the redneck's clutches.

"Stop!" Rick commanded as Shane drew his gun, pure instinct made the cop hesitate.

"Let me at him, Grimes, I'm gonna rip his fuckin' teeth out," Daryl reached for Walsh again, getting reared back, "Motherfucker!"

"He didn't mean that," Rick assured him, yelling over the redneck's steady stream of curses, "He's stressed, we all are, and we're all saying things we don't mean. So just calm down and take a deep breath, Dixon!"

Rick pulled the man further away, turning him around so they were face to face. Daryl was still glaring at Shane so he grabbed his shoulder, getting right in his eyesight.

"You listening?" the redneck nodded tightly, lips a pale slash across his face, "We'll have Murphy take care of him but I need you to drive your vehicle. We'll stop halfway there and then you can see him again, alright?"

He shoved Rick away, looking him up and down before giving a little nod.

He was grateful but the damn pig didn't need to know it.

**xXx**

"Fuck," Connor's hands closed into fists at his side, the veins in his temples throbbing, "_Fuck_."

His vision had blurred out from the fever, he refused to acknowledge the tears soaking into his pillow. It just hurt so much. His hip was throbbing in time with his heart, each line of muscle in his arms and legs tender and aching against the bed. Every movement sent new ripples through him. His rosary, off his neck and clutched in his fist, was the only thing that kept him grounded. The delusions had tried to creep up on him a few times (a walker crawling along the floor, the RV shaking) but he'd managed to ride them out.

He cracked his eyes open and nearly jumped out of the bed when he saw his father kneeling above him. He had his shades on, hat low on his brow, and a cigar in his mouth. Like when he first saw him. He barely got out a weak _Da?_ before his father's palm clamped down across his mouth. Connor tried to draw in a breath but he couldn't past the leather, his grip was too tight. The glove muffled his scream, he tried to thrash but his body was too heavy. He couldn't breathe, he was-

"Stop screamin' or they're gonna bust in here!"

And just like _that_ reality snapped back in place.

It was Murphy above him, desperation on his face and reddening his eyes. His brother looked terrified, hand clamped over his mouth. Connor instantly quieted, his twin removed his hand.

"Sorry," Murphy apologized, "You were screamin' to high heaven."

"Didn't realize it," Connor panted, relaxing his grip on his rosary. He felt something wet there and looked down to see blood pooling in his palm. The metal ring of the cross had cut into him, he must've been clutching it as tight as he could during the delusion.

"What happened?" he stroked through his hair soothingly, "What did you see?"

"It was Da, he was tryin' ta' kill me," he closed his eyes, letting his brother's touch keep him in the moment, "This fever is fuckin' with me."

"Are you back now?"

"I think so," Connor let him wipe his eyes and face, and when he opened his eyes it was easier to see, "Not for long. It's getting' harder to stay straight."

"Then I'll tell ya now, the group's leaving," Murphy brought some water to his lips, "Drink."

Connor soothed his parched throat, wincing as he sat up enough to take it.

"We have to talk about whether we're leaving or not."

Connor nodded, it had to be done.

"If we're gonna skin out of here we need to do it now while everyone's busy," Murphy informed him, setting the glass aside.

"We should stay."

He was surprised to hear his brother say that, "You're the one who was talking about leavin'."

"I've got a plan," he lazily patted the other's cheek, "Don't I always?"

"Yeah, stupid fuckin' plans," Murphy needled, getting a grin out of the blonde.

"Shut yer mouth, my plans are pure gold."

"Sure they are."

He flicked his twin in the head, getting a tongue stuck out of him. Murphy was about to tease his brother more about his cinematic plans when the blonde seized up then curled in on himself, arms wrapped tight around his waist. Connor started muttering in a bastard mix of Italian and German, the words _hurts_ and _burns_ coming through quite clearly. His twin reached out and grabbed his wrist, holding onto him.

"It's okay," Murphy lied, holding onto him just as tightly, "I'm here, it's okay."

They knew it wouldn't, but it was a nice lie.

**xXxXxXx**

Glenn and Dale came into the RV but they were quiet and left them alone.

And so the caravan went. Murphy stayed with his brother through the heavy bouts of fever, cooling him off as best he could and talking him through the delusions. He cried out for a lot of things. Their parents, Daryl, for Rocco and Greenly...it brought back all the old memories. Before, when the shadows were on the streets with guns instead of in his dreams and reanimated.

Connor had drifted off by the time the RV stopped, though it was more because of the smoking from the engine than the need to stretch their legs.

**xXx**

"I told you we'd never get far on that hose," Dale tisked, watching Rick fan the steam rolling out of the hood, "I needed the one from the cube van."

"You can blame Merle for that," the sheriff put his hat back atop his head, "Can you jury-rig it?"

"That's all it's been so far," the older man griped, "It's more duct tape than hose. And I'm out of duct tape."

Everyone was crowded around, most with their weapons.

Murphy came out of the camper, nearly tripping on the last step.

"Hey," Lori came up to him, taking him by the shoulder, "Honey, you're shaking."

"I'm fine, I just need some fresh air," Murphy assured her, "Connor does too. We're just breathin' in the fever in there."

"We'll be on the road in a moment," Lori rubbed his hand along his back, "Why don't you lay down in the back of the car for a few minutes?"

"Thanks, ma'am, but I'll be alright," he thumbed toward the trees, "I'll just sit down a bit."

Murphy walked away and with each step he cracked a little more. He tried to keep himself together in front of his brother and the others but the farther he got away, the more he let himself go. He ducked behind a tree and tipped his head against it, bringing his hand up to bite down on to keep himself quiet. The tears came in fat rivulets, chest shaking under the force of his silent sobs. Connor was the strongest figure he had in his life. He'd always been the one to take charge, the one to stand out in their pair, the one everyone flocked to. He was the one with the genuine smile and the God damn halo.

Their mother had always said Murphy was too timid, his charm too fake.

"Murphy?"

"Fuck," Murph turned his head away as Daryl came up beside him, hiding his tears, "Go away."

"You and your brother keep tellin' me that," Daryl frowned, "Look at me, 'least."

Murphy sniffed hard before turning his head, showing him his flushed face.

"Did I have this comin'?"

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing, "What?"

"You said earlier we reap what we sow?" Murphy brought his shirt up, scrubbing his face, "Cause I couldn't save Merle...is this what I get?"

Daryl grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, a strong armed thing that felt awkward but good at the same time. The redneck smelled like old squirrel and Murphy had his brother's sweat on him but neither cared. The Irishman grabbed onto him, fingers twisting in his ratty shirt.

"No. No one deserves this."

**xXx**

Connor started as someone came in the RV. He tried to sit up but his stomach wasn't having it, he could only lift his head to see it was Rick.

"Connor," Rick nodded, taking off his hat and setting it on the counter, "How are you doing?"

"Drowning in sickness," Connor snarked, his rueful chuckle hurting his belly, "It's all I can taste when I breathe."

He laid a hand over his bite defensively when he caught the sheriff staring, "Why've we stopped? I conked out there a bit. Is somethin' wrong?"

"We're not throwing you out," Rick verified, "Don't you think that for one second."

Connor brought the sheet up his body and managed to sit up enough to prop against the wall. Relief released some of the tension within him. It still felt like his nerves were knotted up around the bite mark but he'd take any little bit he could.

"I just wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"I just wanted to ask you about how we first met," Rick knelt down beside the bed, getting eye to eye with him, "Just in case the worst happens, I need to know what it meant."

Blonde brows knitted together, "What do you mean?"

"You were kind of out of it, but when you saw me you said you'd been waiting or looking for me," Rick explained reluctantly, "You grabbed me like you knew me. Like you'd seen me before."

_He was bound to find out sooner or later._

"My brother and I had a dream about a man with blue eyes. I had the dream more than once and I knew he had to be real. I'm just guessin' it was you," Connor ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up, "The man we saw was a leader and he needed us to find him, he was lost. Maybe, in a way, we were searchin' for you as long as you were searchin' for us."

Rick shook his head, "That's impossible."

"The word yer lookin' for is _improbable,_" he corrected defensively, "Twins often have the same dreams, the same thoughts, do the same things. It's not as far fetched as it sounds once you think about it. From crib to apocalypse is a long time to be beside one another."

"No," Rick looked a little shell shocked, "It's not so crazy when you put it like that."

"It could've been nothin'," Connor could see the man was on the borderline of freaking out, "It was just a blue-eyed man. There's thousands of them."

There a beat where he couldn't help but laugh, "Well, not now there's not."

Rick knelt there for a good long while, rubbing his hand over his mouth like he was trying to pry out the right words.

"You two are really somethin', you know?" he settled on, "Walkers can listen to you...and these prophetic dreams..."

"Hardly prophetic," Connor scoffed, "Look at me now, Rick, where did dreamin' get me? The dead don't listen to anyone. They're like children. You just have to scold them the right way and they have to be just guilty enough to listen. It almost never works."

The last part was a lie but Rick didn't need anything else to make him nervous.

"You're a good man," he said after an awkward silence, "My brother's told me how you've defended us and I appreciate it more than you know."

"It's the right thing, any decent person would've done the same."

"If you haven't noticed, Rick," he drawled, "There's not a lot of decent folk left."

Someone came in, Jacqui. She had fresh bandages and some peroxide. She jumped a little when she saw Rick there, then managed to pull off a smile.

"I didn't expect to see you," she raised the bottle, "I was going to change his bandage properly."

"See? What am I complain' about?" Connor grinned, stretching out on his back with a little grunt, "Pretty women to tend to my needs. What more can a man ask for?"

**xXx**

The sun was starting to set when they hit the roadblocks. Everyone piled out, every man with a gun, and surveyed the area in a tight-knit group. It looked like the army had been there but the half-built barricades were littered in bodies. Soldiers, civilians, women, children, it was sickening. The stank of the area made them cough. It was a devastating blow to their hope. Rick looked crestfallen.

"Looks like the army was no match for the dead," Murphy commented, stepping over a swollen body.

"All right, everybody, keep moving. Go on," Shane gestured for the others to go ahead of him, "Stay quiet. Let's go. Stay together."

They made quick work of the distance, weaving through dead as smoothly as they could. The children stuck close to their mothers while the men kept the circle tight. One of the lurkers jerked and made a grab at Glenn's ankle, a hand slapped over his mouth before he could scream. Murphy jerked Glenn back before throwing down a knife, getting the walker right between the eyes without a sound. He let the boy go and put his foot on the dead thing's skull, plucking out his knife. Glenn wanted to thank him but the Irishman put a finger to his lips before motioning him to keep going.

The CDC doors were shut down tight. They pounded along the sheet metal but no one seemed to hear them.

"There's no one hear, man," T-Dog proclaimed.

"Then why are these shutters down?" Rick demanded, pushing up on the sheets, "There has to be someone inside."

They were too busy trying to pry open the doors to notice the lurkers stirring behind them, roused by their noise. They came alive slowly then all at once, surging to their feet. Carol screamed as one grabbed her and Sophia, trying to get a bite of them. Before anyone could even raise their guns five muted shots rung out, the head of each walker spurting before they fell. Guns trained on the new attacker but not a shot was fired in defense once they saw who it was.

Connor jogged up to them, duffel over his shoulder and bow across his back. He looked pleasantly flushed now, healthier than he had just an hour ago.

"What the fuck are we doing?" Connor demanded, surveying the area, "It's infested out here."

"Rick led us into a graveyard!" Daryl barked, loading another arrow into his crossbow.

"He made a call," Dale countered.

"It was the _wrong_ damn call!"

"Shut up!" Shane shoved the redneck, getting in his face, "Just shut up. You hear me? Shut up! Rick, this is a dead end."

"Where are we going to go?" Carol begged.

"No blame," Shane assured his best friend, "Do you hear me? No blame."

"We can't be here this close to the city after dark," Lori clutched her son to her side, "We need to do something."

Shane cocked his gun, "Fort Benning, Rick – still an option."

"On what?" Andrea snapped, "No food, no fuel. That's a hundred miles."

"A hundred and twenty five," Glenn piped up, "I checked the map."

Murphy had his gun trained, ready to start shooting if they got too close,"They're cropping up like daisies over here."

"Forget Fort Benning," Lori condemned the plan, "We need answers tonight. Now."

"We'll think of something" Rick stressed, tryin to calm her down.

"Let's go," Glenn pleaded, starting to back up with some of the others, "Rick, please, let's just go. Let's go!"

It was a flurry of movement and shouts, only cut through when Rick announced the camera had moved. Shane tried to convince him it was dead, a trick, electricity, but the deputy wasn't hearing any of it. The twins tried to yank him back, to drag him away from the doors, but he fought against their hold.

"I know you're in there. I know you can hear me!" Rick called to the camera, "Please, we're desperate. Please help us. We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left! We have nowhere else to go!"

"There are more comin' in hot," Connor reasoned, letting Shane push him and his brother off Grimes, "We need to move!"

"If you don't let us in, you're killing us!" Rick was picked up around the waist by his friend, getting dragged back, "You're killing us! _You're killing us!_"

And just when they'd lost hope, the door rose and light spilled over the group.

* * *

**I promised a chapter on the weekend and I definitely delivered. The next chapter will be out VERY soon, it's already finished it just needs spellchecked.**

**There is a need for an apology. I put in ****_The Thugs II_**** that the twins said they already knew about the end of the world. False. Connor and Murph had no idea about the walkers since they had been out in the woods the entire time of the outbreak. Sorry if I gave that impression, I was writing another story at the time and I sometimes forget to keep check. So in the next chapter it will be the first time the twins get to see a walker. And in the chapter after that, we'll have our first dream!sexy times between Connor and Daryl. You excited? I am. It's going to be artsy, though, since it's a dream. I'll save the gritty, filthy, realistic stuff for their ****_real_**** first time.**

**Always remember to review, because it makes me write faster.**


	19. The Thugs III

**Screwed up in the third or fourth chapter, Conn's the one with their mother's name on his chest. Murph has their dad's. Sorry for the confusion. Fixed it.**

**Another thing: Trigger warning! Semi-graphic rape. Sorry. Not really.**

* * *

"What'd you do to 'im?" Murphy demanded, watching as the thug discarded the needle they'd stuck in his brother "What was that?"

Connor was woozy at best, flanked by the men who had taken them. They shoved him back against the wall every time he tried to sit up, keeping him still. He kept blinking rapidly like he just couldn't quite understand what he was seeing, the drug making quick work of his motor skills.

Scar tisked, waving a finger at him, "I think you should be more worried about yourself there, bitch. He's safe for now."

One of the men surrounded Murphy laughed, "You? Not so much."

"What?" the Irishman breathed out, terror only growing by the second. He counted eight of them in the room. Two by the two, two by his brother, the leader (Scar, Boss, whatever he called himself), and three more around him. One was bald, one had scraggly dark hair, and the third was tattooed from head to toe. Eight, _shit_. They couldn't take eight armed men, there was no way. He was latched down pretty tightly and Connor couldn't even stand.

Fingers latched onto his jeans, yanking open his fly. But Scar was looking right at him, grinning, and there was no use in struggling so he didn't. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

"What're you gonna do to me?" Murphy demanded as strongly as he could.

"Since you were livin' in our territory, we're gonna collect some taxes" Scar drawled, like this happened everyday "Out of you and your brother over there. Then, when we're done, we're gonna feed the dogs. Jet, strip him down. I want him bare."

The bald man, Jet no doubt, nodded and yanked down the Irishman's boxers. Murphy had never felt more vulnerable then he did in that moment, with his brother struggling to stay conscious and the cold air of the cement room brushing across his ass. He hadn't heard any barking from the open door the entire time, not even one whiff of that distinctive canine smell.

He swallowed, "What dogs?"

"Special dogs" Scar assured him "You'll meet them later. They're _starving_."

"Should feed 'em more" Murphy kicked back, smirking up at the leader when the dark haired man cried out as his knee was taken out from under him "Fuckhead."

Scar knelt in front of him and grabbed his face, digging his thumb and forefinger so hard into his jaw that it was forced open.

"There's two ways this can happen" Scar informed him, his men shifting restlessly behind the bound man "I'm going to fuck you so hard you bleed, there's no getting past that. If you act real sweet for us, it'll only be me and the boys can just have this snarky mouth. But if you keep fightin' us, it'll be everyone and we will wreck you."

Once his mouth was released he started barking, "_Fuck you_! Just _fuck you_, man!"

He got back-handed for his courage. The fucker was strong, stronger than he'd thought he'd be.

"You heard his answer, boys" Scar declared "Hand me the grease."

The leader went around behind him, disappearing from his vision.

"Connor, snap out of it" Murphy begged "Brother, _please_!"

But the blonde was braced against the wall by one of the men's forearms, staring with glazed eyes.

"Conn" he wavered, he could hear the slick sound of lube spilling into someone's hand "Don't..."

_Dont' let them do this to me._

Two cold, broad fingers slid inside him without warning. It hurt like nothing had before, like being shot but with less adrenaline and more _searing_. He choked on his own breath, the pressure shoving him hard into the desk.

"Ooo, he's tight, boys."

"You first, boss" Jet was rock hard at the display before him, watching just as hungrily as his companions "Loosen the mick up."

"You're so _generous_."

At the last word he shoved in a third finger, making Murphy yelp. Fooling around with bar boys was nothing like this. They'd all been small and had let him do whatever he wanted, submitting with only a few accented words and a couple body shots. The slick kept him from tearing but it was only a small comfort, he'd never been stretched so roughly and nothing could stop the pain. His face burned in humiliation as the men openly stared, eyes watering up from the act and the realization that they were basically standing in line.

For him.

"Ready for my cock, boy?" the leader's smug tone was accompanied with a smack on his ass, making him jump.

"You motherfucka' " he slurred.

"That's why I prefer to fuck chicks" Scar scoffed, slicking up his ready cock "They've just got better manners. None of this name callin' crap. And they're always so wet. But, it's the end of the world, can't afford to be picky."

Murphy wanted to ask what the fuck he was talking about but the question fluttered out of his mind when the leader patted his lower back, like one might do to a good horse. He bucked away, grunting loudly when the barbed wire cut further into his hands and arms. Every squirm, every pull, dug the barbs in until he was coated in blood from the elbow down.

"Inbred pieces of shit" Murphy looked to his brother again, hoping for some recognition but finding none "Gonna fuckin' regret this, I swear."

"Do you want me to get a gag, boss?"

"Soon."

Murphy pressed his forehead into the desk, biting down hard on his lip to keep from making a sound. He didn't want them to know how much it hurt when Scar just pressed in, every inch of his disgusting cock dragging along his inside. The friction wasn't dry but it hurt, he just wasn't stretched enough. And the bastard didn't give him a chance to breath before he started thrusting, broad palm laying between his shoulder blades so his short nails dug into his skin for more leverage. It was like being ripped into for the first time over and over again, never getting any easier.

Murphy cursed through it all, muttering awful things into the desk as he tried to disconnect from it. The bastard was practically gutting him.

_Connor was watching_, that's all he could think of. His brother was witness to his shame and it made him sick to his stomach. He couldn't stop the painful whines that mixed in with his curses. He pressed it out of his mind, shoving it into the corners to try and focus on anything else.

Ireland.

_The sky rolled with full, grey clouds. Hot streaks of sunlight came down in patches, scattering shadows across the hills along their land. Acres in every direction and it belonged to them. They laid together in the grass, bones aching and muscles weary from their hard days work. Their hands were calloused and sore from loading crates but the money crumbled up in their pockets made it worth it._

"Pretty little fucker. Shame we're gonna trash him."

"More will come. They always do."

_They laughed about how Mick had tripped over a pile of freshly caught fish, nearly falling into the dock. Connor grabbed his hand as it waved through the air, inspecting a particularly nasty welt along the joint of his thumb. _

_Proud of you, brother, looks painful._

"You got 'im cryin', boss."

_More than you know._

Murphy grabbed the side of the desk, knuckles bone white beneath the blood.

_Connor brushed a kiss across the reddened skin. _

"I kinda wish it had been a couple women. Would kill for a rack right about now."

_There, all better now, ya?_

"Wait 'till you're inside, man, you'll change your tune."

_The clouds shifted, a fat ray of sun falling across his brother. Connor grinned at him, squeezing his wrist before letting their hands fall back into the cool grass. Their fingers laced lightly, a familiar touch. They used to do this when they were scared, either before they told Ma about breaking something or whether the shadows in their room were too real. They'd push their beds close and let their hands hang together over the side, fingers just barely laced, just enough pressure to know the other was there. They didn't do it so much anymore but Connor had made up for it by soothing his nightmares, calling him 'sweetheart' when he was terrified, being by his side through thick and thin._

"Connor."

The name broke out from his lips as the leader bottomed out within him, stomach churning when the disgustingly bare cock spilled it's seed. It was warm and it stung, he could feel some small tears inside him that protested with every movement.

Connor let out something like a low snarl as he watched Scar pull out of his brother, a few translucent drops hitting the floor. He couldn't see any blood but he couldn't focus too hard without getting dizzy. The fuckers had to have something, what if Murphy caught it? What kind of sickness were these bastards carrying? He tried to sit up again but the man beside him laughed and landed an elbow square in the middle of his chest.

"Jesus" he wheezed, barely managing to rub a hand over the sore spot.

Murphy lifted his head up when Scar stepped away, he could see the man tucking himself away in the corner of his vision. Another set of hands grabbed him, spreading his cheeks to practically _gawk_ at his exposed flesh.

"Not again, not again" Murphy started to really pulled at the barbed wire, tears streaming down his face as the full lengths of the points sunk into him "Fuck you, you sons-of-bitches, I'll kill you myself! Don't you fuckin' touch me again! Don't you fuckin' dare!"

"No more talk" Scar took something from another man "Not another word."

Murphy sucked in a breath at the sight of the gag, a red rubber ball and black leather. The man came at him with intent, between the hands holding his hips still and the barbed wire he couldn't move but an inch. The gag tasted like window cocking, one man grabbing his jaw and forcing it open to accept the ball. It was shoved between his teeth, the straps pulled too-tight behind his head and buckled in place.

"There we go" Scar patted his cheek "Not. One. More. Word."

**xXx**

Connor slipped in and out with only one thing to concentrate on, his twin's screams. It was a constant flux of pain, his heart throbbing in his chest in distress and under the influence of whatever drug was inside him. It was muffled sounds now, he could barely make out the flash of red in his brother's mouth. Something was stopping him from crying out for help.

He watched two men go through his brother before he couldn't take it anymore. He clenched his eyes shut and wouldn't look despite what the men on either side of him said. They prodded and poked him, demanding he watch, but they were too busy getting off to his brother's pain to make him do anything but stay still. He concentrated on shaking off the drug.

Murphy needed him and the moment he could, he would avenge him.

**xXx**

Murphy tried to swallow it but he couldn't stop the sobs that escaped him, tears cutting lines down into his sweat slick hair. They'd flipped him on his back, dragging the barbs through his skin, wrists crossed above his head now. Between men they had fun pressing down on the wire or wrapping their hands around his throat. One of them had nearly choked him out. Dots had danced in front of his eyes, he had barely stayed awake through it. He'd have bruises for days.

If he lived that long.

Broad palms forced his thigh apart, the third or fourth man deciding to take his turn. Rough laughter surrounded him, pouring in his ears until he couldn't even hear the rasp of his own breath anymore. A helpless noise slipped past the gag. The leather strap dug so hard into his cheeks they split in places, hot blood smearing his jaw.

"Lookie here, the mick has ink."

Murphy tossed his head back as canines dug into the name over his heart, his father's name disappearing beneath the man's wet mouth.

_Stop. Stop. Stop, please, don't._

It was a constant mantra in his head but only a gurgling sound came from his gagged mouth. He could feel their repulsive essence trickling from his entrance, could feel it cooling on his thighs and wherever else they'd smeared it. His chest heaved as another blunt cock forced itself within him. How many times would he feel this? How many more men were in this place? How many more times would he feel like he wanted to vomit out his soul?

Maybe that last one would never go away...

**xXx**

Everyone got a turn before it stopped, even the ones keeping Connor docile took a piece out of him.

And just like Scar promised, not one of them tried to have his mouth.

"Now that's a bitch in his place" Scar whistled beneath his breath "It's the one thing I love about the boys. It's just more satisfying to tear 'em up, don't you think?"

There were dark murmurs of agreement.

Murphy was flushed from cheeks to stomach, panting wetly as saliva mixed with blood across his cheeks and neck. His eyes were blood-shot from his screaming and sobbing, just a hint of the bruises to come staining his thighs and hips. Just the suggestion of color on them. Blood from his barbed wire cuts pooled along the edge of the table, curling over the edge and falling in pretty ruby droplets until it puddled on the floor. He couldn't look at them or his brother, his shame choking him now more than the gag was. He turned his head away, trying to bury his face in the crook of his arm.

"How's blondie doing over there?"

"Still out of it, boss."

"Good" Scar wiped the MacManus's blood off on his shirt "Bring in the dogs. They'll be goin' crazy with all this blood."

Murphy waited but he didn't hear any dogs. He could hear the scraping of feet and could sense bodies shifting in the room, but not much else. Something was wrong. Something was coming. That's when he heard it.

Growling. Not barking.

Murphy whipped his head to the side, eyes going impossibly wide as he saw what one of the men brought in on chains. There were two of them with heavy collars around their necks and cuffs on their wrists and feet. They walked like people, had human shape, but he'd never seen anything like it before. They were sallow skinned and sunken in, hunched over themselves. They had busted up fingers their legs were cut off at the knee, leaving them to hobble. Their eyes looked like negatives of real ones, red where they should be white and black where there should be color. Their mouth were crusted in something that looked like blood.

They were terrifying.

Murphy started yelling behind the gag, numb fingers trying again to work the barbed wire out of his flesh. He thrashed, trying to get over the other edge of the table and away, but one of the men pushed him back on. He couldn't even squirm off. There was no getting away.

It was the tattooed man, the one who'd been particularly rough with him, was leading the two beasts closer. They wobbled with their hands outstretched, coming straight for the table. They were following the smell of blood, practically huffing in his scent. One lunged forward, chain rattling warningly but it made it to the edge. It grabbed onto the desk and lifted, jaws snapping hungrily. But it stopped the moment it got a whiff of him, nose twitching as it took great huffs of his scent.

"Dumb ass thing" the man controlling them cursed "Haven't fed 'em in a week, they should be starvin'. Eat, shit head."

The tattooed man dug his hand in the thing's scraggly hair, pushing it's head into the Irishman's side. Teeth chomped down onto his side, trying to take out all the meat it could get.

"Wait!"

The bald man yanked the creature back, the pressure on it's throat from the collar forcing it to give up it's mouthful. The thing screeched as it was dragged away. Murphy sobbed breathlessly as the pressure let up, vision blurring up at the edges as the pain almost took his consciousness.

_The field. The breeze. Connor. Home._

"I want another go with him before we give 'im up" it was the dark haired thug "Come on, boss, just one more time. While he's changin'? He's gonna be so hot."

Scar actually laughed out loud, "Go on, you horny bastard. One more time. String the dogs up, would ya?"

The bald man nodded and obeyed, dragging the hobbling beasts to the side of the room and hooking their chains to some iron rings on the wall. One tried to grab at him but he just kicked it in the chest, smacking it into the wall.

The dark haired man came up again but Murphy could barely open his eyes, let alone protest. He whined when he was spread open again, fingers finding his aching hole, but he couldn't get past the fire racing across his stomach. He could feel each individual puncture in his stomach and every pulse of blood that poured out. He was losing too much, the ceiling was spinning.

Across the room, one of the men grabbed Connor by the chin.

"Soon he'll be dog chow and you'll be the new entree" the thug ran his other hand down the blonde's chest hungrily "I can't wait to get a piece of you, little leprechaun. I'm gonna eat you up."

Connor pushed up into him, eyes still at half-mast and movement sluggish.

"Please..." the blonde muttered.

The man smirked, letting his hand dig into the Irishman's pants, "There's a good boy."

He was too busy groping the firm curve of Connor's ass to feel the hands taking his pistol and knife from his belt. He was breathing in the scent of golden hair when he finally noticed the blade that slipped past his chin, tilting up and forcing itself within his mouth. He gaped as his own buck knife threatened the width of his gob, point just brushing his soft palate. Connor pulled back just a bit, looking up into his face. His gun was aimed at the man on the other side of him, ready to shoot.

The thug saw what he didn't before. Those impossibly blue eyes were clear and sober.

"Open your mouth a bit more" Connor commanded, grinning when the thug obeyed and let the knife ease in just a bit more "There's a good boy."

The wet squelch of a palate being torn open became his battle cry.

* * *

**Was that too much? Not enough? I hope you enjoyed it, at least, I enjoyed writing it. That's what happened to our poor Murph. My heart hurts for him. But the world is a different place now and that's what happens to pretty young men on their own. Thugs grow desperate in times of crisis. **


	20. Daryl's Dream IV

**So this is Daryl's dream during the restless night after the walkers took out half the camp.**

* * *

_The Night of the Walker Raid on the Camp_

He didn't watch TV very often. But there was one time in the middle of a drinking binge when he'd caught a movie halfway through. _Memento_ or some shit. His buzz was pretty strong by that point but he'd caught the gist of it. His dreams were starting to feel a lot like that. Every time he managed to grab some sleep he braced himself for a shock and then a series of questions. Like now.

Where was he? What was happening? Who was around?

Daryl squinted into the darkness of the room as he tried to make out his surroundings. Okay, he was laying down in a recliner. His feet were up, an old Mexican blanket was draped over him. He raised his hand and examined it for dirt. There was none. Clean? Warm? In a house?

Yeah, he was dreaming

Daryl kicked down the recliner and pushed off the cover, stretching to loosen up. It felt like he'd already slept. Dreams were fucking weird. He got up and checked out the window, finding a wide expanse of grassy yard and a starry sky. Everyone must be asleep, if they were even here. He began to make his way across the living room, knocking over a few bottles and nearly tripping on a glossy _PC_ _Gamer_ magazine. They seemed to live like pigs and he loved it. He started down the hallway but stopped when he found a few pictures hanging on the wall, the frames a dollar-store silver that seemed to fit perfectly with everything else.

There was him and Connor standing with a strung up deer, the blonde posing like a show-off while he himself just stood there grinning like a fool all covered in blood. Another was Glenn sitting on a four wheeler, nearly shoved off of it by Murphy trying to crowd the shot. They were as filthy as the vehicle. Another was paired in a split-frame, obviously a gag shot. Someone was squatting down under a truck, pointing a camera at another person completely covered in oil. From the way the man was trying to block the spray he could tell they hadn't thought to drain it. It kind of looked like Connor. The picture beside it was of himself on the ground laughing, like red-faced belly laughing, as the oil-slicked blonde tried to scrape it off is face.

Daryl sputtered out a chuckle. God it'd been long time since anyone but Connor had made him laugh.

A picture on the opposite wall made him stop. It was in black and white and set outside, but you could barely tell since the two people in the frame were close to the camera. It was Merle fake-strangling him, he pulling a rocker face threatening to lick the lens. It looked fun. It looked like they used to, before Merle found him fumbling around with that guy.

They looked happy.

He was trailing his fingers over the glass when he heard a pained grunt further down the hall. He remembered his bedroom was at the very end of the hall but that was too far away. It was something closer. He passed the familiar half and half room, a small groan drifted out from a different door. The one marked up with the end of a knife, the one with little sketches all over it.

Murphy and Glenn's room.

The door wasn't shut. He put his knuckles to the door and pushed, swinging it open even more. The curtains across the wide window were tied back, letting the moonlight spill almost perfectly across the bed to give him the full view of two naked forms.

Glenn was on his hands and knees facing the door, head dropped down between his shoulders as he kept releasing small sounds of what he took for distress. His fingers were clenching in pulses along the sheets, matching the pace of the man behind him. Murphy was kneeling there, one hand spanned out across the Korean's lower back while the other disappeared between Glenn's thighs. Daryl couldn't see exactly what he was doing but he could guess, the rhythm of his movements making it obvious he was prepping the other for something bigger than just his fingers.

Daryl's cheeks burned at the implication but he couldn't look away. There was something mesmerizing about the way Murphy practically swallowed up the other man, knocking him down onto his elbows with one well placed touch.

"I-I'm ready" Glenn almost sounded like he was begging, forehead pressed to the sheets.

"You're ready when I say you are" Murphy replied darkly, pressing in just so that it made the other arch out like a bow.

"Murph!"

"Sh, sh, sh" Murphy teased, slowly pulling his fingers out "I'll give you somethin' to yell about."

Daryl turned and put his back to the hallway wall, ripping his eyes away on pure will power. He'd never see two guys fuck before but he knew what those new sounds meant. He couldn't believe he was spying on them like some sort of creep. They just looked so...

_Comfortable._

Daryl hurried to his own room, slamming the door shut behind him. He sat down on his bed. God, _his_ bed, it felt so good to say that. Everything about it felt familiar, from the beat up comforter to the smell of musky clove from that damn soap that was starting to drive him crazy. He turned his face into the pillow and took a deep breath, letting himself soak it in.

The door opened, someone came inside. He didn't want to look up and find himself back in the real world so he put it off. Even with the shuffling of drawers and the soft puff of breath, he didn't look.

"I see you managed to cart yourself to bed. I didn't think you'd ever wake up."

Daryl picked his head up. Connor had a towel tied around his waist and one draped over his neck, using it to scrub over his hair. He looked like he'd just gotten out of the shower, water still clinging to his legs and down his arms. He was grinning beneath the pale blue material, obviously comfortable. Daryl wet his lips and tried to act casual but it was more skin than he'd ever seen on the other man. He'd caught a glimpse at the lake when the boys had been bathing but to be honest he had averted his eyes more than not. It just seemed wrong to steal a glimpse of his body without his permission, even with it bared to the world.

Now was no different. Daryl turned his head, letting even this dream version of the blonde get dressed in peace.

"You came in from work and just collapsed" Connor dried off his chest "Thought you'd be out all night."

"I got enough sleep" the redneck waved it off, sitting up properly "I heard somethin' and had to check it out."

"You didn't see the boys, did you?" Connor laughed, tossing the towel into the half-full hamper "They're makin' a racket in there."

The blonde did a double-take at him, "Are you...are you blushin'?"

Daryl rubbed at his cheeks, frowning, " 'Course not."

"You saw them together, didn't you?" Connor teased mercilessly, plopping down on the bed "Gross. Those two are always rollin' around in there."

If this had been reality, Daryl would never dare to do half the things he wanted to. But he had to remind himself that this wasn't the real man and he'd never know what he did to him here. If the _real_ Connor didn't want anymore between them than what there was, he would take what he could get. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and pushed him down into the bed, straddling his thighs to get a good look at him. Connor only smiled up at him, taking one of his hands and bringing it to the knot in his towel.

"Go ahead" he cooed "Look. It's what you've wanted, isn't it?"

Daryl nodded breathlessly, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. He eased the towel off, exposing the fine lines of the blonde's hip bones and the plump line of his cock. He was already hard, seemingly ready and willing for whatever the Dixon could dish out.

"Shit, you're beautiful" Daryl muttered under his breath "Been wantin' this for a while."

"I know" Connor curled his fingers through his short head "Come 'ere."

Daryl buried his face in the curve of his collar bone, nosing the tight skin and letting his lips taste what he'd only seen. It was frustratingly empty. He couldn't really taste him but he could feel everything, his mind pulling up every touch he'd ever had and amplifying it a hundred percent because this was _Connor_ and everything about him was so bright and intense that it almost hurt. He knew, in a terrible way, that this was all he could get and he was still screwing up. He couldn't even get real taste of flesh, it was just like kissing warmth.

"Didn't know you would get back up" Connor was laughing a little, tugging him even closer "You could've showered with me."

Daryl cracked a grin, fingers sliding down to cup just under his thighs. It was a bold move and it made his heart flutter.

"Go ahead. Just do it."

Daryl raised up, frowning, "It'll hurt, won't it?"

Connor sat up, tucking fingers beneath the redneck's chin and pulling him up into a kiss.

"You really don't understand, do you?" Connor murmured against his lips "Here...I'm _yours_. I'm made for you to use. Take what you want."

**xXx**

The wind hit the tent too hard, startling him out of his dream. Daryl rolled and grabbed his crossbow, raising it in quick defense. Once he realized there was nothing he threw it down, snarling and kicking it away. His pillow went next, then his empty pack.

"Fuck!" he kicked out at the bedroll, bare heel sliding against the material "God fuckin' damn it!"

Daryl dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, driving out the images. He could still feel Connor's chest beneath his fingers, feel his warmth, and it drove him crazy. He was completely torn. He'd sworn to Merle that he'd touch another man again but every dream, every filthy thought, was pushing him toward Connor. He was a good man, a mile above those dumbasses he used to fuck around with.

Daryl dug his fingers into his scalp, acid burning the back of his throat as he fought off the nausea.

Merle was gone, a constant ache in his chest.

Connor saved him, he killed all those walkers to keep them all safe.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could do this and stay sane.

* * *

**So it wasn't the sex I wanted, I totally lied. I just felt like I was cheating all the boys out of their real first times and I just couldn't write it. **

**Please review? Kind of totally shamelessly begging but whatever I'm in love with all of you no matter what**


	21. Season 1 - Episode 6: TS-19 Pt I

**This is the first half of the last episode. Are you guys excited? I am. Unfortuantely, this is all the boring stuff and the explanations and the set up. All the meaty goodness is in the next installment. **

* * *

They entered cautiously, ready and on the look out for more walkers. The place was huge, the ceiling seemingly a mile high above their heads. Though they expected some kind of ambush the place was surprisingly void of life.

Except for one man with a gun pointed at them, half hidden in shadow.

"Anybody infected?" the man called.

They exchanged nervous looks, unsure what to say. Daryl quickly cocked back his crossbow, raising it up, ready to take out the man's hand if he tried to shoot.

Rick swallowed audibly, "No."

Connor stepped forward and dropped to one knee, laying both his pistols and his bow on the floor as a white flag. He stood and pulled up his shirt, revealing his stomach.

"I'm bit."

They heard the man flip the safety off his gun, the weapon rising to his shoulder as he aimed. Murphy shielded his brother as best he could, though the blonde hissed at him to stop.

"You better lower that fuckin' thing!" Daryl barked.

"I was bitten yesterday and my fever just broke," Connor declared, pushing his brother out of harm's way.

The older man actually hesitated, "Is that true?"

Rick didn't dare lower his gun, "We all saw it happen and he's been sweating it out ever since. He needs help. He could turn anytime."

The man seemed intrigued; he lowered his gun, at least.

"Why are you here?" he inquired. "What do you want?"

"A chance," the sheriff confessed.

"That's an awful lot these days," the man gestured. "What with an infected man in your group."

"I know. But you're all we have."

The man started sizing them up, taking in their thin forms and filthy faces.

"You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission," he waved the barrel of his gun at the twins, "and you-"

"You pull out anything bigger than a needle and I'll gut you," Murphy growled. Connor grabbed him by the shoulder and the back of the neck, whispering for him to calm down.

"Who are you two?" the older man finally asked.

"I'm Connor, and this is Murphy," the Irishman replied, voice level. "He's my brother."

"Brothers..." he murmured, then cleared his voice and spoke up. "I'll need more blood from the two of you."

Connor squeezed his brother's arm in relief, pulling him to his side. They stayed silent, but when Rick looked to them for their response they nodded.

"They can do that," Rick answered. "We all can."

"If you have stuff to bring in, do it now," the CDC man called. "Hurry. Once this door closes, it stays closed."

**xXx**

Dr. Edwin Jenner was the name of their savior.

They reached the elevator when the first acknowledgment came. Lori stopped Carl from entering, a pinched look on her face. She was hesitant, scared, and the others stopped immediately.

"What's wrong?" Rick asked, stroking down her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she began, voice wavering, "but I don't want the kids riding in a small space with Connor. I know it sounds ridiculous, but-"

"Don't beat yourself up," Connor cut her off, smiling as best he could. "I understand, its' alright."

Admittedly, Sophia looked scared but Carl had his chin up defiantly.

"I don't care," the boy stated boldly, "Connor's our friend, he won't hurt us."

Connor knelt down in front of the kid, ignoring Lori's slight flinch, "Your mum is right. Don't you trust a walker, don't you turn your back on it. And _never_ trust a person's who's bit."

"But you said you were okay," Carl's eyes were glassy from restrained tears. "You said the fever broke!"

"Maybe the good doctor here will have something that can tell me if I'm better or not, hm?" Connor ruffled through his hair, finally getting the kid to smile. "There's a good lad."

"If you're not okay, we'll have to shoot you.

The solemn tone of his young voice made Murphy suck in a sharp breath, but his twin only kept smiling.

"I know," Connor stood. "Trust me."

The rest got out of the elevator but Daryl lingered, his forearm firmly planted on the door. He was glaring at the doctor, shotgun in his hand and crossbow strapped to his back.

"Doctor always go around packing heat like that?"

"Stop," Connor passed by him, glaring, "I said it was fine."

"How do I know he won't off you on the way up there?" he accused sharply.

"Then it'd be for the best," he snapped, the redneck's face fell. "Wouldn't it?"

Daryl dropped his arm, stepping back to let the twins enter with the doctor.

"See you on the bottom," Connor leaned against the back of the elevator. "And stop frownin', you'll get wrinkles."

"Big woman's blouse," Murphy insulted, ducking his head and smirking as the redneck sputtered. The doors closed between them, cutting through the mirth like a knife. They hadn't been moving for a moment before Jenner spoke up.

"Are you telling the truth?" the doctor demanded. "About the fever and when you got bit?"

"We are," Murphy promised. "If we were lying, we would've left last night while the others were asleep."

Jenner started grilling them on exactly how long Connor had been afflicted, what had happened during the fever, how bad the pain had been.

"I had delusions and I couldn't get cool," the blonde tilted his head back against the elevator. "That's all I know."

Jenner frowned, "How long were you born apart?"

Murphy shifted his bag higher up on his shoulder, "Ma said about three minutes."

"Twins," Jenner ran his tongue over his teeth. "Fascinating. Exact DNA, exact reactions...this is a rare opportunity."

"You're not experimenting on us," Connor scoffed. "They won't let you."

"No, of course not, there's no time," the doctor waved it off, "but maybe we can learn something before you turn."

The twins shared a look, their hands meeting between them, fingers mingling. Connor brought their hands up to let his brother touch his forehead. Murphy could feel the knot of tension in his stomach slowly unraveling. Jenner watched them in the reflection of the elevator, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Twins, one infected, and they were almost ridiculously in sync.

"One more thing," he added.

"What?"

"I want to do another test on you, Mr-?"

"What kind of test?" Connor cut him off.

"A biopsy."

"A what?" Murphy snapped.

"It'll only take a few minutes," Jenner explained. "It's practically painless."

"No cutting me open, Doc," Connor sighed in relief, he was glad it wasn't anything more serious, "I'm not so pretty on the inside."

"Deal," the doctor nodded, lips pursed. "No cutting."

**xXx**

The elevator door opened for the group, only Jenner stood there without his gun. He led them along a long white hallway, explaining how far they were underground and how a person just got used to it after a while. He called for this _Vi_ to turn on the lights in the big room and the shadows at the end of the hall disappeared. The "big room" ended up being a rounded room with tons of desks and a huge screen at the far side. The good doctor had spread out an array of medical supplies over two of the desks and that's where the twins were, Connor sitting atop one of them. He was taking off his shirt, his twin helping him to avoid agitating his bite.

Daryl rushed forward, fingers tight on the shotgun, "Hey, what the fuck is this?"

"Relax," Connor tossed aside the dark material, "the doctor here's just gonna give me a once over. He said he wanted to give me a...a what was it?"

"Fine-needle aspiration biopsy," Jenner recited easily, flipping open a case to reveal a high grade medical kit.

"What's he gonna do?" Daryl asked, eyeing the supplies.

"Why don't you all take a seat while I deal with Connor here?" the doctor suggested, pulling out a thermometer. "Tilt your head."

While the group set their stuff down and started settling in chairs, Jenner got to work taking the Irishman's temperature then his blood pressure. He asked him seemingly pointless questions about his diet and where he grew up, needling him about any medical history he shared with his family. Genetics, from recessive eye color to repeating patterns of diabetes. Connor mostly just scratched his head and answered as best as he could but he didn't know half of it.

Jenner was drawing blood when he finally got to the heart of the matter, "How do walkers react to you?"

"That's a tough one," Connor winced at the bite of the needle. "They're weird toward us. It's not that they stay away, 's just that...sometimes they don't try to eat us. _Sometimes,_ not always. It's strange, I can't describe it really."

"Is that how you've stayed alive this long?" the doctor sounded fascinated, an edge of surprise present.

"We ran, just like everybody else," the blonde scoffed. "We're not special, doctor, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"Bullshit," T-Dog spat.

"Why the fuck isn't he changing?" Shane barked from his seat, resting his folded hands atop his shot gun. "He was practically incapacitated this morning. I've seem them change in hours, it shouldn't take this long."

Jenner's smile was strained, "Eager to shoot him, are we?"

Daryl set his gun aside, sliding off the desk he'd perched on. He dared to walk over and put the back of his hand to the blonde's head, recalling how his flesh had been burning earlier.

"He ain't even hot," the redneck announced.

"Way to boost a man's ego," Connor grinned, getting the other's lips to quirk up.

Jenner put the blood aside and started prepping for the biopsy. He found the long, thin needle he needed and pulled out the entire box of Isopropyl swabs. He connected the needle to an empty syringe and that's when Daryl felt his panic start to return.

"What the hell are you gonna do?" he questioned.

"I need the purest sample of hormones I can get and the only way to do that..." Jenner held the needle up to the light, tapping the container with his finger, "Is to take fluid from the thymus gland. Plus I can get the best look at his T-cells. Maybe they'll reveal why it's taking him so long to turn."

"Ain't that stuff in his blood?" Rick seemed unsettled. "I don't want any unnecessary procedures-"

"Every procedure is necessary," Jenner interjected, "I assure you."

The other man snapped his mouth shut.

"The blood's contaminated with the virus. I need a better sample," Jenner explained more, moving to stand beside the Irishman. "Neck or chest?"

"Chest," Connor answered, sitting back a little to give the man room. "Everything there already hurts, it's a bit numb."

Murphy dropped to a knee beside his brother, putting a hand on his leg. Connor laid his palm on the juncture of the brunette's shoulder and neck, closing his eyes as Jenner brushed one of the alcohol pads along the middle of his chest. The doctor took a deep breath before easing the needle into the Irishman's chest, piercing the flesh and pushing with a steady pace. Carl kept watching, fascinated, but Sophia had to look away and press her face into her mother's shirt.

"Hasn't he been through enough?" Carol demanded, cringing.

"Maybe it'll help," Jacqui insisted, hoping she was right.

"I'm fine, ladies, doesn't hurt one bit," Connor lied, ending in a hiss as something inside him gave way. He squeezed his brother harder, Murphy didn't even wince.

"It just pierced the thymus, it'll only be a minute now," Jenner started to talk him through it but stopped. "Huh."

He pushed the needle in farther, Connor actually cried out.

Daryl got up close to the CDC man, "Gentle your touch up there, Doc."

"It's just-" Jenner's brow furrowed up, "It's not my specialty, I only had a few years of medical practice, but your thymus should be smaller than this. I should be at the edge, I thought I wasn't going to hit it at all, but it's...bigger. At your age it should've shrunk."

"Strange and all," Connor cracked an eye open to give him a glare before clenching it shut again. "Just hurry up, will ya?"

Jenner slowly pulled up the plunger, painfully extracting a nearly-clear fluid. Once it was full he slid the needle out, blood bubbling up after it. Murphy grabbed some gauze and laid it over it, letting it sop up the trickling blood. Daryl made a face at the sight, glancing over at his crossbow. Lori felt a little nauseated and turned her head away, covering her mouth.

Jenner busied himself injecting the thymus fluid into a vial, setting it aside with the blood thoroughly capped, "They need to set for a while. Let's get the rest of you."

Lori dropped her hand to lay over her chest, where the needle had pierced Connor, "We all don't need to get that treatment, do we?"

"No," he sat down at a different desk, witheverything he'd need to get a sample from all of them. "If you can come up, one at a time."

One by one, they sat down in front of the doctor and let him take a vial of their blood. A lot of them stumbled back to their seats, woozy from the loss and from not eating for so long. Daryl kept his eyes on Connor the whole time, watching him put back on his shirt and ease off the desk. He didn't even seem to register the procedure, going over to the Irishman the moment he was done.

"What'd that fucker do to you?" Daryl laid a hand over his shoulder, shielding him from the doctor's view. "You hurtin'?"

"Yeah, I still got a big chomp mark in me and just got a hole pushed through my chest," Connor snarked but he didn't pull away, "But otherwise, 'm okay."

"Don't let him take anythin' else, you don't need to prove yourself to him," the redneck could see a speck of blood blooming on the other man's shirt. "I don't want him stickin' you again."

"No more," the blonde lightly rubbed his chest. "I'm too sore for anymore 'a this."

After Jenner finished taking each person's blood, he lined them up in alphabetical order. He started fussing with the other vials, taking samples from some to put under a row of microscopes.

"What are you doin' over there, Doc?" Shane asked, putting pressure on the crook of his arm to stop any blood from flowing.

"I'm comparing the twins' blood and using Rick's as a control," Jenner prepared each slide as carefully as he could. "Connor's should look different from – I'm sorry?"

"Murphy," the darker twin hopped up onto one of the desks, swinging his legs.

"Right. And Rick's should look just like _Murphy's_. When I add the virus-" the group seemed to jerk back when he raised a dark vial, obviously a blood with concentrated infection. "It should eat up all three. Just give me a moment. Vi, put results from lenses one through three on the big screen."

The screen flickered to life, cut into three slices.

"Magnify to blood cell level."

The last two slices looked normal, but there was something wrong in the first panel. Something was moving around with the blood cells. It was dark and rough looking, more ragged than their more rounded red counterpart.

"Mother of God," Jenner breathed, watching the screen with a single-mindedness that was almost scary. "I'd never thought I'd see it again..."

"What?" Connor drawled, leaning against the desk his brother sat on. "What's me blood doin' up there?"

"Your _blood_? Nothing," Jenner flicked his fingers dismissively. "Your T-Cells, your red blood cells..._they_ are fighting."

"Don't all bodies fight infection?" Glenn piped up. "That's what a fever is, isn't it? A signal that your body is fighting?"

"Yes," Jenner glanced over his shoulder, "but for once, the body's winning."

It took a few moments but some globs of clear came through the blood, soaking up ragged cells and taking them inside.

"What is this?" Dale demanded, mouth gaping.

"I've only seen it twice, both subjects had larger thymus glands as well," Jenner proclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Two of our scientists were attacked outside and submitted themselves to tests, to help further the research, but something was wrong. They got the fever...and it broke. They never progressed to event one of the change, they just _stopped_. They were weak but they were fine."

Andrea almost couldn't believe it, "Why?"

"We don't know."

T-Dog huffed, "Take a guess."

"Connor's T-cells are just stronger or maybe they're smarter. Maybe there was a lesser strain of this sickness and they were exposed to it young, maybe it developed from a more well known virus. We just couldn't be sure, we ran out of time," the doctor scrubbed his fingertips over his forehead. "With only a few cases, I can only make an educated assumption that there are more people like them out there. Some, like Connor, can live through a bite."

Rick's face brightened, "So he's not infected?"

"Not at this rate," Jenner sighed, though there was a curve to his lips now. "He should be back to normal soon."

"You little shit!" Daryl howled in laughter, grabbing Connor in a headlock and digging his knuckles into his hair. "You had us ready to shoot you for nothin'!"

Connor tried to shove him off playfully, "Ya think it was fun for me? Get off, Squirrel boy!"

Murphy, who had been so quiet, spoke up, "What happens when you add the blood together?"

"Nothing," Jenner plucked up the vials from the clear thymus and the infected blood "but maybe..."

Jenner ejected both Murphy's and Rick's slides, putting a drop of virus in each one. Once they snapped back in place, the effects were instant. Murphy's T-cells , even outside the body, started to absorb the ragged virus cells.

"Shit," Daryl let the blonde go. "Little fuckers are quick."

"Why, though?" Jenner turned, eyeing the darker twin. "Were you bit?"

Murphy looked sheepish as he pulled up his shirt, showing off the faint red ring of scars left from his attack.

"I thought it was a dog bite," Daryl muttered, whistling under his breath. "Damn."

"And you didn't think to tell us this when we let you in?" Shane's tone was sharp, biting. "You think this a game? That it's _funny_ to keep stuff like this from us?"

The Irishman rolled his eyes, "Would you have believed me?"

Shane's jaw ticked beneath his skin. He had nothing to say.

"No we wouldn't have," Andrea finally admitted.

T-Dog had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

Rick frowned, "And mine?"

Jenner added a drop of the infected blood to Rick's control sample, when he snapped it shut it they could see the reaction. The ragged blood cells absorbed everything, turning them black and destroying their entire structure.

"Congratulations, Officer Grimes, you're normal."

"This is complete bullshit," Shane cursed harshly, "they don't get mauled, and when they do, they don't turn. Why do the rest of us have to die and these two and a handful of others get to live?"

"Genetics," Jenner stated simply.

"I have to agree with Shane, if just a little," Dale leaned on his gun. "Why couldn't Amy live through her attack? Why couldn't Jim? Or any of the others? Why did a whole world of people have to turn while a special few walked away?"

"I think you mistake me," Jenner tsked, capping the virus tube. "When they die, they'll turn."

Connor's breath left him like he'd been punched, stomach bottoming out.

"One of the men who got bit didn't turn but found himself with a crushed lung. He lived just long enough to get better before both collapsed. He suffocated at his workstation, just _fell_ _over_, right there," the doctor pointed. "An hour later he got right back up and tried to eat his assistant. The fever may not take those _special_ _few_, but injuries will. Just because they crawl away doesn't mean they'll stand again."

"We were lucky," Connor nodded, though there was a tang of bile on the back of his tongue. "Our attacks were isolated. One walker, one bite. But those things are still strong."

Murphy rubbed a hand over his bite scar, "Don't think I wanna survive gettin' my eyes scratched out or my arms tore off."

Shane seemed disgruntled but a bit more satisfied.

"I, for one, think it's wonderful that a few of us can get through this," Lori declared, laying her hand in Carl's hair. "If it was any of us we'd be beyond thankful. I'd be a sobbing mess on the floor if I had been bit and got a second chance. If it were our kids, our families...we wouldn't be so hostile."

Walsh finally dropped his head in resignation, "If it were me...yeah, I'd be grateful."

"I'd give it to you if I could," Murphy spread his arms out, his smile betraying a bitterness he didn't feel. "Any of you. If there was a way, I'd do it."

"Is there?" Carol inquired, "A way to make a vaccine, I mean."

"I'd need months, electricity, supplies, manpower," Jenner listed as he slowly tipped the thymus fluid into Rick's sample, and once the slide slapped shut they could see the T-cells struggling and half succeeding in destroying the virus cells. "Artificial catalysts. More than I have...more than I could get."

"Does that mean you're okay?" Carl stepped away from his mother. "Will Connor be okay?"

"Yes," Jenner smiled, shoving the cork back into the half empty tube, "Your friend will live, like his brother did. There won't be any need for those guns."

Carl burst into a run. Connor barely had time to brace himself before he was snagged around the waist by strong little arms, crushed in a hug. The boy sniffled against his stomach. The Irishman picked him up with only a little cringe of pain, trying to both reassure him and keep him away from the bite on his stomach.

"Hey, hey, hey now," he cooed, holding him just as firmly. "None of that. No tears."

"We j-just got you back," the boy was trying to stifle himself but his breath was catching hard.

Lori smiled, tears in her eyes, and Connor shot her a smile back. Sophia ran over too, doll still cradled in her arms even as she hugged him around the stomach. He put Carl down and hugged them both, letting them bury their faces in his shoulders. He'd never been so humbled as he was by their youthful concern for almost a near stranger. He'd written himself off as disposable to the group and here the younglings had been worried for him the whole time.

"Stop it, now," he pleaded, his own eyes wet as he found himself overwhelmed by their concern. "You're too worried about an old man like me."

Sophia lifted her head, tears flowing in thick rivulets down her face. She looked up at Murphy and the brunette smiled sweetly, shooting her a wink that made her smile.

"I know what this is," Connor cupped the back of their heads, giving them a soft smile as they looked to him. "All these waterworks aren't for me. I bet you're just worked up because you're hungry. Am I right?"

Sophia laughed as he tickled her belly, Carl grinned as his own was poked. They wiped at the tears on their faces, trying to seem strong.

"See? Ya little fakers, you just want food," he patted their cheeks before standing up, "Doctor, now that we know we're all better and healthy and set right, how about some grub? Couple of us haven't eaten in a few days."

The older man took in the group's hopeful looks and nodded, "I think we can find something."

**xXx**

They feasted like they hadn't in months, eating and drinking their fill with abandon. Wine and whiskey were passed around in fancy glasses that had collected dust on the bottoms. They all sat down at the biggest table they could find. Those who couldn't acquire a seat took spare desks nearby and pushed them close, perching or leaning against them. Glenn and Murphy sat together on top of a long desk, beers in their hands and half-full plates beside them. Connor stood at the table, shoveling more food onto people's plates the moment he saw they were finished. Daryl stood close behind him, one hand on the desk while the other let him nurse a bottle of liquor he'd claimed as his own.

Dale was serving the wine, "You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France."

Lori accepted the glass, laughing more freely than she'd allowed herself in weeks, "Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then."

"What's it gonna hurt?" Rick laughed around a mouthful of chicken. "Come on. _Come_ _on_."

Lori relented much to the group's delight, even T-Dog toasted it.

"There you are, young lad," Dale poured some wine into the boy's cup, letting him get a taste. "Tell me what you think."

They waited in silent moments as Carl took a sip, instantly pulling a face and setting it down.

"Bleh!"

The group erupted in laughter.

"That's my boy," Lori took the rest of the wine and dumped it in her glass. "Alcohol is terrible for you but it's great for adults."

"That tastes nasty."

"Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud," Shane advised.

"Not you, Glenn," Daryl countered, coming up to the table to grab himself another wing.

"What?" the Korean questioned, looking down at his beer.

"Keep drinkin', little man," Daryl demanded after a heavy pull from the bottle, "I wanna see how red your face can get."

"I second that," Murphy waited until the other took a drink before he reached up, tilting the bottle back even further to encourage it. "Keep goin'."

"Drink, drink, drink," Connor chanted in a low, teasing voice.

"You too, Clover," he elbowed the blonde, "Show some Irish pride."

"Shots!" Jacqui raised her wine, "I dare you."

"I double dog dare you," Glenn called after he coughed the beer out of his lungs.

"Can't turn that down, can I?" Connor grabbed a bottle of whiskey and some shot glasses out of the box they'd found the liquor in. He lined up the glasses in a neat row.

"Drinkin' is bad, kids, don't you do this," he poured the booze in them, a little sloppily thanks to the bit of wine he'd already taken in. "Unless you're a professional."

After a dramatic count down from the others, Connor started taking them one by one. When he finished he slapped the wet glass on the table upside down, taking up the next one in the same motion. Five shots later he threw his hands up triumphantly, swaying dangerously on the balls of his feet. He almost fell but Daryl was quick, catching him just beneath the arm and around the waist.

"Okay there, Conn?" Murphy asked, ready to go to his twin if his wound was acting up.

Connor looked even more flushed than before, tan cheeks ruddy from the alcohol and some embarrassment. He looked up at Daryl, barely making an effort to stand on his own.

"Not quite in shape for that," the Irishman was breathless. "Went straight to my head."

"I think you're just a light weight and you're savin' face," T-Dog slapped the table, grinning easily. "You don't wanna admit you're the one Irish guy who can't hold their liquor."

Connor laughed with him, "Whelp, you got me."

"Get some more food in ya, soak it up," Daryl urged him to sit back down on his chair, pushing his plate in front of him. Connor batted his hand away playfully.

"I'm not a cripple."

They grinned at each other, the redneck slapping him lightly upside the head.

"Children," Lori faux-scolded. "Eat your dinner before you horse around."

"Yes, ma'am," Connor saluted while the redneck hid his little smile. "Can do."

Rick grandly toasted their host, everyone raising their glasses in agreement.

"So when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, Doc?" Shane's words cut through the happy shouts like a hot knife, silencing their laughing tongues. "All the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?"

"We're celebrating, Shane," Rick sat back down, smile gone. "Don't need to do this now."

"Really?" the dark haired man looked haunted, hollow, almost dangerous with the passive lilt of his voice. "This is why we're here, right? This was your move – supposed to find all the answers. Instead, we found out we've got a couple of miracles with us and we found _him._ Found one man. Why?"

"Shane," Murphy sighed against the rim of his beer. "Christ."

"When things got bad, a lot of people just _left_," Jenner began to explain, sitting down his own glass of wine. "Went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted."

Shane sat back in his seat, a faint smirk of disbelief curling his lips, "Every last one?"

"No," there was a line of steel in the doctor's voice now, "many couldn't face walking out the door. They...opted out."

The finality of his words made most reach for their wine again.

"There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time."

"But you didn't leave," Andrea pointed out, "Why?"

"I just kept working," the older man rubbed the back of his neck, fingers lingering along the base of his hair, "hoping to do some good."

Glenn looked down at his beer, shaking his head, "Dude, you are such a buzz-kill."

**xXx**

Jenner led them down a hall full of comfy looking offices with plush couches. He explained that the normal housing was down and he showed where the rec room was.

"If you shower, go easy on the hot water."

Glenn turned, grinning at the twins, "Hot water?"

T-Dog's own teeth were flashing, "That's what the man said."

The group was quick to run and claim rooms, thinking only of being clean.

**xXx**

Connor and Murphy dumped their stuff in a room together, refusing to separate even at the offer of showers. They raced to pull off their clothes, unashamed (as always) of their naked state as they fought to squeeze into the stall. They ran it hot, squealing and hollering as they struggled to adjust to the temperature. Without warning they started laughing, loud brays of noise that bounced off the tiles until it echoed in an infinite loop. They each grabbed a wash cloth and some soap and started scrubbing, first themselves then each other in all those hard-to-reach spots. Off-color jokes that weren't even funny started pouring from their lips, their moods lightening with each minute spent under the hot spray.

"What's worse than a baby stapled to a tree? One baby stapled to ten trees!"

"A horse walks into a bar. The bartender goes, 'Why the long face?'. The horse says, 'I jus' realized alcoholism is tearin' my family apart'."

Connor beat his fist against the wall as he laughed out, "Why did Sally fall out the swing?"

"Why, dear brother?"

"Because she didn't have no arms or legs!"

Murphy roared, digging the sudsy cloth into the filthy dip of his brother's back.

"Knock-knock."

"Who's there?" Murphy sang, scrubbing off the dried sweat from the tan skin.

"Not Sally."

They ended up leaning against each other, barely able to make a sound from their breathlessness. It was a true moment of pure delight, enjoying one another and letting themselves go for the first time in a long while. They had to be on guard with the group but now, with the door locked, they were free.

"Turn around, let me gets yers," Connor commanded, spinning his brother around. He started to really scrub along his back, getting off the grime even the river couldn't get.

"Oi!" Murphy tried to arch away but the blonde held him firm by one shoulder, "Yer scrubbin' too hard."

"Aw shut up, yer filthy," he countered, "it's practically stickin' to you, damn."

"See how you like it!"

Murphy turned back, rinsing his cloth for a moment before rubbing it across his twin's face. Connor frowned and flinched and griped, but he didn't pull away. His hair was scrubbed too after some shampoo was dumped into it. Connor scowled as he forced beneath the spray, suds trailing all down his body as he was rinsed clean once more.

Murphy kept his eyes on his twin's face, watching the little distressed expressions with a smile.

"There's my pretty brother!" Murphy declared while the other shook his head. "Now maybe you can keep up with me, though we both know I got all the looks."

Connor spit water in his face, getting the indignant sputter he'd been looking for.

They continued on like that for a few minutes, leaning against the wall once they were clean just to enjoy the hot spray while they had it.

"I coulda' lost you in the city."

Connor looked over at his twin, the other was looking down at the floor.

"They told me they found you surrounded by walkers and I couldn't breathe," Murphy confessed, "I can't believe they know about us now."

"Well," Connor thumped his head against the stall, "they were bound to find out sooner or later if we stuck with 'em. Least they seem okay with it. They don't want to kill us."

"Unlike the last group."

They both went quiet, matching pensive looks on their faces.

They wondered, in silence, when the group would get around to asking about _that_ as well.

**xXx**

Shane lied to himself when he said he'd only lay on the couch for a minute, just for a nap. The moment his head laid on the cushion he was out, slipping off to sleep without so much as a prayer.

Someone touched his face. He opened his eyes and there was Rick, clean shaven and looking like the man he'd been partnered with years ago. The other man was smiling carelessly, touching his cheek with all the reverence he used to have. Shane grabbed him by the shoulder and brought him down into a smooth kiss. But a kiss wasn't enough. He grabbed Grimes and forced him into his lap, letting him feel just how much he missed him. They made out like teenagers, pawing gracelessly and rolling into each other for any hint of friction.

The hand in his hair unclenched, softened, barely ruffling the tresses at all. Shane pried his eyes open again and ripped his mouth away, gaping at the sight. It was Lori, wide eyed and flushed. She was in his lap now, wiggling into him when he stopped.

"What's wrong?" she purred, slim hips almost disappearing in his palms.

"Where's Rick?" he asked, sounding sluggish.

Lori shook her head, dark locks falling over her pale shoulders, "You don't want him."

"I want it all."

He flipped them around, smoothing her out on the bed. Bed? Since when was there a bed in here? Where'd the couch go? But her kisses stopped his racing mind, blurring up his thoughts until he sank into the soft line of her body. He ripped away from her mouth only to latch onto her neck, her collarbone, across the swell of her breast. His fingers slid blindly up her thigh, finding her folds and slipping in with no resistance. She was warm and the sounds she made were the sweetest, though he almost wished for something tighter and darker with stubble. But he banished those thoughts, nipping at her belly button as he pulled his fingers free. He went to spread her legs but there was something different about her now. She was more aggressive, the hands on his shoulders were starting to claw and bare down with new strength. It was good but it wasn't her.

Shane pulled back, discovering shorter hair and a hint of beard now. Murphy grinned down at him, bright-eyed and rolling into his touch.

"What are you waitin' for, big man?"

Shane could only gape. The Irishman took things into his own hands and rolled them, putting the older man flat on his back while he straddled his hips. He held onto those lithe hips as Murphy sank down on his cock, taking him as easily as if he'd been stretched and slicked. Shane would've been ashamed of the moan he released but he couldn't get past the tight heat, the confident rock of his hips, the way the man flushed so prettily on top of him. Murphy's lilt was seeping into his moans and it was one of the hottest things he'd ever heard. The slighter man sunk all the way down, taking every inch like he was born to do it. The cheeky mick actually winked at him, dipping down for a kiss.

"I'd rather get picked third than not at all."

Shane clenched his eyes shut, sucking in as much breath as he could, but when he opened them everything was gone. He was on the couch and no one was there, the door was even shut. The only change was the bulge in his jeans, the throb of unresolved desire enough to make him dizzy. As he sat up it dawned on him just what he'd been dreaming about. Rick was nothing new and Lori didn't surprise him, but _Murphy_? That little mouthy shit that followed Glenn and Daryl around? One half of those twin bastards with their immunity and bright blue eyes. Fucking Murphy with the way he flirted and the pink of his mouth. He was too old to look as fresh as he did, still gangly limbed and boyish. At least Connor looked like a man, Murphy still had a softness to him and when he bent over he seemed to be just _begging_ for someone to grab his hips and fuck the-

Shane grabbed the bottle off the floor, taking a long drink that nearly had him retching. He kept sipping at the liquor all the way to the shower, shedding his clothes like they'd done the wrong. He turned the water on as hot as he could, refusing to think about his dream as he drank and scrubbed his body. He tried to wash away the touch but it kept coming back, skimming right across his flesh. Ghost fingers, still lingering. Lori's wet heat, Murphy's sharp teeth on his lip-

"Fuck!" Shane banged his head off the side of the shower, bottle almost half empty now.

He couldn't do this.

* * *

**Hope Shane's dream wasn't too confusing. I'm trying not to use italics for dreams because I always skip them in story. Italics is hard to read and bold looks childish, so I thought I'd just make it obvious when it began and ended.**

**Now's the time to start thinking about what you want to see for Season 2. Watch it, think it over. What would you like to see the boys get into? Because a lot happens in that season, even if they are in the same place, and I probably won't write everything because that's boring with all the non-slash/non-plot-essential things. I'm more than welcome to suggestions for future chapters, I always am. This is _our_ journey together, not just mine. A story belongs to the readers.**


	22. Season 1 - Episode 6: TS-19 Pt II

Connor walked out of the bathroom area, scrubbing a towel over his wet hair. He dug into his duffel and found a clean pair of underwear and another pair of jeans. He tugged them on over his wet skin with some difficulty but he enjoyed the way the water dampened the cloth. When the cool air hit it felt wonderfully chilly. He put a fresh bandage over the bite on his hip, drizzling some anti-inflammation crap the good doctor had given to him. Once he wiped the stuff from his fingers he found his rosary still nestled on his pillow and plucked it up, letting it fall around his neck like it always had.

There was a knock at the door. He buttoned up his pants before walking over, throwing the door open.

It was Daryl, leaning against the door frame with three bottles in his hands. He looked up when the door opened, head ducked in shy uncertainty. The Irishman didn't miss the slight widening of his eyes as they danced over his bare chest, taking in his ink and scars. But the redneck was quick to look away, instead holding up one of the bottles.

"Found some Jameson," Daryl shook the liquor, making it slosh noisily, "You micks drink this stuff up like mother's milk, don'tcha?"

"Jameson" Connor took the bottle with a note of awe, examining it, "Good stuff, yeah. Speaking of good stuff..."

Daryl wasn't the only one noticing. The redneck himself was scrubbed clean, much like himself, revealing the tan skin that he'd always known the man had beneath the dirt. There were some sun spots peaking around the collar of his sleeveless shirt, some ink curling across the bulge of one arm, and more scars than he'd managed to see before. His hair was actually lighter without all the dirt and sweat, almost blonde in this harsh light. It was sticking up a bit like he'd run his fingers through it.

"Look at that," Connor grinned wolfishly, "There's a man under all that dirt. And he ain't half bad lookin', either."

Daryl had this blush that went right up into his ears, the blonde couldn't help but think they'd be hot to the touch, "You want it or not?"

"I'll take _that_," Murphy hurried by and snatched one of the bottles of Jameson, tossing off the lid, "I'm gonna go to the rec room and chill. You two drink and swap war stories. Don't fall asleep on your rockers."

"Brat!" Daryl called after him fondly. Murphy flipped them off, the bottle already to his lips. The redneck shook his head and looked back to Connor, pointedly lowering his voice.

"We can go to my room and drink in quiet," Daryl offered, more than friendly but not suggestive, "Found a cot and a lot of blankets in my closet, think it's better than my own bed."

Connor smiled fondly, more than glad they'd made up. Daryl had been ready to kill him but he'd hesitated, he'd gotten angry at him for being bit, but things had settled back to normal between them. Maybe even more, maybe something else had grown from his near-death. He must've waited too long to answer, Daryl started shifting his weight and looking back at the ground.

"Nevermind, man, I'll just-"

"I'm down with some quiet," Connor cut him off, stepping out and closing the door behind him, "Let's go."

**xXx**

Jenner stared at the empty vial for far too long to be considered healthy. It was still wet from the Irish kid's thymus fluid, something he hadn't thought he'd pull off. He never thought he'd see the immune gene again and here it was, resting in the hearts of twin boys. That's what they were, _children._ Barely twenty-five, probably just sampling life before the world went to hell.

Two pretty boys out of their country but not their element.

Where were they half a year ago when the virus started cropping up?

"Hell, _three_ months ago," Jenner corrected himself out loud, tilting back in his chair. Three months and there could've been some time to fix things, to do some _real_ good. He looked up at the clock, watching the numbers slice away in clean ticks.

They had run out of time. There was nothing left to do.

Jenner chucked the vial, only managing a slight smile when it shattered against the floor.

Barely a day left now

**xXx**

Daryl's room looked just like their own. The Dixon had found an extra wide cot in his storage room, apparently this room had belonged to some "fat, dead bastard" who'd slept here a lot. The closet had revealed some plush blankets, just like the twins' own had been packed to the brim with throws.

Connor sat on the bed with his back against the wall, liquor cradled between his thighs. Daryl was laying on his side with is legs half hanging over the side of the cot, braced on his elbow so his hands could curl around his own bottle. It was unlabeled but it was amber and harsh on his throat. It was only made for one big dude not two fully grown men, but they made do.

"Murph and I used to share a bed 'bout this big until we were about six or seven" Connor patted the bed pointedly, "Our Mam scrimped and saved. One day we got home and the old bed was gone, sold, and there was two relatively new ones ready for us. She even made us some new blankets to go along with it. They were nice, we slept in 'em 'til the day we left for America."

"How was it?" Daryl ran his thumb across the grooves along the bottle, "Gettin' here and findin' a job and stuff?"

"We didn't hide in a boat the whole way or anythin', the people were nice," he assured him, "Boston was kind to us, the community really took us in. We didn't have much but we didn't care."

"We didn't either, you're not alone there," Daryl swirled the bottle around, "It was really tight growin' up. Merle and I shared a bed for a bit too, but only about a year. He had a couple years on me."

"How far apart are you two?"

"Eight years" he blew out a sharp breath, "It's a long time but we were close anyway."

"Good. It's important to be close to your brother," Connor leaned forward, putting an elbow on his knee, "Speaking of which...you and Murph are kinda close."

"Murphy was real worried about you."

Daryl brought his hand up and tucked his thumb between his lips, chewing on the side. Connor was starting to become familiar with that gesture, it was one the man did when he was nervous about his words. Whether he was holding back or afraid of revealing too much, he bit at his nails and cuticles.

"You must've done somethin' to encourage him" Connor pushed "He doesn't normally warm up to people. I've only seen him do it this fast when someone sticks up for him or helps him out. You had to have said somethin'."

"For a minute there...I thought you and Merle were both dead," Daryl finally confessed, "I thought Murph was the only family I had left."

"Family?" it came out shocked and sudden, startling them both. Daryl bristled up much like a cat would. He'd never seen such a manly man do anything so cute.

"What?" he hissed out through is teeth defensively.

"Nothin'," Connor clinked their bottles together, "I'll share all I got with ya, includin' Murph. He's a little shit though, I'm warnin' ya."

"I believe it" Daryl laughed in a little huff of breath, relieved as the other man showed that easy-going nature he liked so much.

"I'm glad we can talk alone like this," the blonde took a small drink, letting it warm his chest, "We're all always cramped so close together, it's about time we got some space."

"Yeah," there was that shy dart of his eyes over his painfully bare chest again, "That needle bruised you up."

True to his words there was a bloom of color radiating from the small puncture, the beginnings of something that would darken.

"Ma always said I bruised like a yella' apple," Connor prodded the skin, "It doesn't hurt much now. Jenner said it might color up a bit but it's nothin' 'ta worry about."

Daryl took a nervous gulp, "Merle sure did a number on ya."

Connor dug his thumb into the scaring sliver of a wound on his forehead, the one that disappeared into his hair, "It doesn't hurt either. What about that scar on your chin? That must've hurt."

"This?" he ran a hand under his chin, tilting it back to show off the silver bump of flesh, "Fell over my dad's work boots when I was a kid. Busted my face on the coffee table."

"I got this on the playground when I was a lad" Connor held out his arm, the back of his right arm littered in dark little scars "Some shit head punched Murphy in the stomach and made him throw up. I just saw red and started beatin' the kid into a pulp. Didn't know until I got home that I had gravel embedded in me."

"Shit, yeah" the redneck leaned forward and touched one of the dips, the blonde always had them covered up "Did the other kid crawl away?"

"Hell yeah he did," he nodded, flexing for the few moments of contacts, "No one hits my brother but me."

"Agreed," Daryl toasted him on that, stretching back his neck to take a long drink. Connor couldn't help but notice the red scar across the redneck's right collarbone, the flesh puckered into a thick line. He couldn't stop himself from leaning forward and running his finger down the length that was visible past his shirt. Daryl's breath hitched and he could feel it beneath his finger.

"I've seen this a hundred times but I've never asked about it," Connor tapped the scar, goosebumps cropping up, "What happened?"

"It was my dad," Daryl slowly admitted, trying to keep his breathing normal, "He got real drunk one night and I tried to get him to stop. I wanted him to sit and calm down. He broke his beer off the table and took a swing at me, caught me right here."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he waved it off, though he missed the touch the moment it was gone, "Got anything else cool?"

"These," Connor held up his wrists, moving them around to show off the slanted line where the handcuffs had cut into him, "Those bastards we'd gotten into a bar fight with? They came back to our place and took us by surprise, handcuffed me to our toilet and dragged Murph out. They threatened to put a bullet in his hand and I snapped, pulled so hard it shredded my wrists. I tossed the toilet on him from like ten stories up, then I jumped. Nearly broke my legs and back, but saved Murph."

"You two," Daryl chuckled, admiring the scars at the same time he wished he'd been there to stop it, "You're really somethin', you know?"

"What about you?" Connor asked around a mouthful of liquor, "You got any cool bar fight scars?"

"A few," Daryl tapped a finger onto the scar on his left shoulder, "Mostly I drink at home, but this guy was mouthin' off to me. Pulled a fuckin' butterfly knife on me, if you can believe it. He nearly cut his own fingers off, I let him walk away. Dumbass like that will just off himself eventually."

"And all these?" Connor was brazen in the way he stroked down the redneck's arm, cheeks starting to darken with alcohol. The redneck's arms were littered in tiny lines of scars, without rhyme or reason. Most were faint and bronzed rather than the usual white.

"I know they look nasty," Daryl was self-conscious now, hishing he'd worn a shirt with sleeves now, "They're from hunting and wanderin' about in the woods. Gettin' bit by animals or gettin' stuck in barbs. I'd catch myself against a tree or somethin' and walk away with a new cut."

His lips quirked, "So you were a squirrel before you were a boy?"

"I love the woods, man, there's no place better," the brunette took another drink, trying not to get hard from the stroke of fingers down his arm, "I only felt right when I was out there. Whenever dad got too bad or Merle got into trouble and raised hell, I went out there. I only ever got lost a few times."

"A real mountain man."

"Shut up!" Daryl shoved him, getting a push to his head that made him grin, "Tell me you don't miss workin' in Ireland? I've seen your hands, I bet you worked on a ranch or somethin'."

"A few. Mostly my Ma's friends who needed another hand around. Murph and I did everything from dock work to bailing hay. There's a lot of work there if you knew where to look. Every little bit helped. We had to earn the money ourselves, ya know? The people there were accommodating but nothin's free."

Daryl could almost see it. The twins out on some stretch of land, standing on the low rails of a fence with only the sun on their faces to keep them company. Hay piled in a truck behind them, dirt under their nails and across the breadth of their arms. For a moment, he could almost picture himself there. Leaning on the fence, laughing with them, enjoying the damp air and the company. He could trick himself into believing he was there, that he was one of them. A brother.

More than, at least with Connor.

Daryl blinked hard as a phantom grip seized his arm, a sense memory leftover from his brother's disapproval. He took a few quick sips to erase the feeling of fingers digging into his skin, pulling him, forcing him to pay attention to his harsh words. It was a memory he wanted to repress.

"You know, there's a scar on the back of your neck too," Daryl pointed out quickly, trying to change the subject, "It looks like somebody hit you pretty good. What happened?"

Connor dropped his head down to feel for the scar, wincing when his fingers skimmed across it. He'd nearly forgotten the mark though the memories that went with it would stick to him forever. He wet his lips as he wondered whether to tell him the story or not. Murphy wouldn't want him sharing it but Daryl was someone they could trust, he'd proven that over and over again.

"You know that bite mark on Murph?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"That was from the first time we ever saw a walker."

Daryl perked up at this, "Seriously?"

"I'm gonna tell you somethin', and I don't want you to interrupt me. I haven't told anyone before and if I stop I might not start again."

Daryl sat up, turning toward him and giving him his full attention.

"We had been camping for about a month in the woods. I was tryin' to start a fire. I wasn't very good at it then and I ended up blowin' ash into my eyes. Stupid, I know. It was the worse mistake I could've made. While I was bitchin' and moanin' about it, about a dozen men ambushed our camp. They took Murph down while he was tryin' to help me, I couldn't even see 'em but I think I killed one. But they had my brother and..."

Connor slowly choked through the rest of the story. Telling the man about getting knocked out, waking up in the dark, searching for weapons, getting drugged, the barbed wire, all of it. But he couldn't catch his breath on the word _rape_ and it was all he could do not to throw up all over the bed. Daryl's hand inched over to cover his on the liquor bottle, squeezing his fingers reassuringly.

"I know what men like that can do," Daryl husked, tight in the chest as well, "You don't have to say it."

"He can't know I told you, he's barely copin' as it is."

"I won't let on that I know, I swear. It can die with me."

Relief pulsed through Connor like a clean drug, easing the weight in his chest.

"Keep goin'. If you want to."

"A-After we got out of there, we went back to camp. We were low on supplies so I suggested we got into Atlanta, get ourselves some stuff then head back home."

"The city? Were you fuckin' crazy?"

"We were in the woods when the walkers attacked everyone, and those bastards sure as hell didn't give us a run down on what _exactly_ they were tryin' to sic on us," Connor explained defensively, "We didn't know they were people, not really. We got into Atlanta no problem. We couldn't believe what that place looked like. We must've been asleep or somethin' during the bombs because we'd never heard it. There was _no one_, it was terrifying. Those men who attacked us..they'd kept talkin' about the end of the world but I didn't know what they meant until then. We saw them, swarms of whatever those thugs had gotten a hold of. People, but not really because they were eatin' _other people_. We just drove through them until we found a bare patch, we couldn't believe it. We ran out and got ourselves into a gas station. We were raidin' the place when they came in. We were cornered before we could think straight. All our stuff was in the truck, we wanted to fight but there was nothin' we could do. I grabbed Murphy and prayed as hard as I could, trying to will those God damn demons away, but something was different. They were eating those people outside, but only one of them even touched us. They started dropping to their knees all around us and they stopped growling."

"What did you do?"

"What the fuck would you do? We ran and tried to forget," Connor tipped his head back and chugged, throat burning, "We said fuck it and got back to camp. Neither of us could sleep or eat, we were terrified that it was hell. That those men had actually killed us and we'd been dumped into a world without flames but overrun with monsters. Murphy couldn't stop cryin'. We'd barely convinced ourselves it had all been a nightmare when a walker stumbled into our camp a few days after. We were gonna kill it but the thing took one whiff of us and just froze. He kept fuckin' starin' at us."

Daryl kept their hands clasped, grip tight.

"Murph wanted to stab it, keep it a quiet kill. He was sure there were hundreds just waitin' for us just behind the trees," he was hoarse now, "But I couldn't do it. There was somethin' off about the dead and I needed to know what the hell it was. I pulled out my rosary and took Murph's gun. I told it to kneel and it did. I...I prayed for it - _him_ – and then shot 'im in the head. The guy didn't move the whole time. He'd just kinda...accepted it."

"Shit," Daryl breathed, "I can't believe it."

"Neither could we. There was nothin' more to fear but Murphy was a mess. He'd wake up screamin' every time there was a sound outside the tent. I went out one morning to find him sittin' in front of the fire. He'd been awake all night, throwing up, tryin' not to wake me. I knew we couldn't stay there any longer. We went back into town and we found some survivors. Decided to stay with them instead."

"Is that what the spick was talkin' about? Is that what made you sick?"

"We were there when they were eaten alive," Connor rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily, "The walkers wouldn't touch us and we couldn't shoot enough of them to get them to stop."

"There's more, ain't there?" Daryl needled, "You didn't trust us for a reason."

"Those people..." he couldn't say it, "We just went back to the woods to hide. We didn't want to find anyone else. We couldn't trust anyone else."

The redneck frowned, "You trust me, don't ya?"

"Yeah," Connor looked up at him, eyes wet "I guess I do."

"What ever happened to those men?" his brow furrowed, "They still out there?"

"Don't worry about it," the blonde scoffed, "I killed every last one of them with my bare hands."

The harsh intensity of those words would've scared the Dixon if they didn't turn him on so much.

**xXx**

Shane found Lori outside her room and made his way toward her, full of some dark intent that he wasn't sure he liked.

"Listen here," he backed her up into the wall, "I've got some things to say and you're gonna listen."

"Are you out of your mind?" she thumped against the wall but her glare was sharp, "This is not the time."

"When is there ever time?" Shane countered, jabbing her in the shoulder, "I wanna know how the _hell_ you can treat me like this, after everything I've done for you and Carl! I love him and I love you, and you can't tell me you don't feel the same way."

He ducked in to kiss her but she slapped a hand over his mouth, ducking under his arm.

"I couldn't love a liar," Lori's words were like ice across his skin, she threw open her door, "And you told me my husband was dead, you son-of-a-bitch, so don't _dare_ tell me what I can and can't do."

She was gone before he could even try to follow her, door slamming shut between them and locking solidly. He glowered but there was nothing he could do short of trying to break the door down. And _fuck it_, he didn't care that much anyway. Sure he loved her but he loved Rick more, always had. He loved Carl too. The kid had Rick's attitude and his same shade of hair, how could he not? Some days when he got too drunk to walk a straight line, like now, he would imagine what it would've been like to raise Carl _with_ Rick. An alternative family, of all things. Waking up to Rick every morning with Carl jumping on the bed, demanding they make him breakfast.

It was a sweet thought that churned up bile in the back of his throat.

Shane put his shoulder against his door, trying to twist the handle open. He needed a long nap to lick his wounds and sober up, he knew this, but the alcohol was still buzzing hot between his ears. The bottle in his hand was getting more empty than he had intended but that wasn't going to stop him. He'd barely gotten it cracked before he heard something that gave him pause. Deep, light-hearted humming. Against the better judgment of his small, sober voice he started down the hall. He was unsteady on his feet but his ears worked fine. The humming turned into murmuring, then soft singing.

"What a bit of luck, everybody follow me...down to the cellar, if the fire's not there..."

What a pretty little accent he had.

Shane leaned against the doorway, peeking into the room. It really was Murphy humming along, running his fingers across book spines with no real intention of plucking one out. He was idly taking swigs off a dark bottle of Jameson, letting it swing by his hip when it wasn't at his mouth. He was dressed pretty scarcely, droplets of water still clinging to his skin and in his hair. Murphy's boxers were clinging to the swell of his ass, his t-shirt ratty and exposing some of his waist. It seemed a little too big for him. He looked ripe, ready.

"Hey," Shane spoke up.

The Irishman turned to face him, singing cutting off mid-tune.

"Hello there."

Murphy shamelessly raked his eyes up and down the other man's body, admiring him. He cut a fine figure, especially now that he was clean. His pale blue shirt was unbuttoned and open at the chest, revealing smooth skin and thick muscle. A shiny, silver 22 necklace stood out against his skin. His cheeks were flushed, he'd obviously indulged a little too heavily in that whiskey they'd found. But he couldn't lie, the man looked _good._

"Looks like you're beatin' me," Murphy held up his own bottle, shaking it pointedly, "I'm catchin' up, don't worry."

Shane walked closer, uneasy on his feet, "Where your brother?"

_With Daryl as always_, nearly left his tongue but he swallowed it.

"Restin' up. He's been through a lot."

"Would've been a shame to lose him. Wouldn't want to break up the set."

"Would've been," Murphy sighed, turning back to the books. He thumbed at the gold leaf of one in particular, a classic he'd never gotten around to reading. The title was nearly worn off and the pages wer discolored, but it looked pretty solid.

"You haven't been to see Lori in this state, have you?" he threw out casually, "Won't end well if you do."

The poor man started to rant, words falling from his lips like water. How he'd tried to save Rick in a hospital, how he'd listened for a heartbeat, explaining that he'd done what he had for the good of all the Grimes family. Murphy tuned it out while he put the Jameson on the floor, giving the man the moment to vent his thoughts. Shane must've been going crazy keeping all that in his head, bottling up everything he loved and thought for the sake of trying to stay the leader. He heard the door shut but didn't think twice about it, continuing down the line until he reached a pinball machine. He ran the pads of his fingers over the cool glass, smiling a bit as remembered all the times he'd helped Connor fish quarters out of drains to have a go on one. There hadn't been any change to spare but they'd made to. There was even one machine they'd found outside a candy store that would give you three games if you fiddled with the wiring just right.

Connor had always known how to make the world work for them.

Fingers fiddled with the too-long strands of his hair, reminding him once more of how badly he needed to cut it. Goosebumps cropped up along the back of his neck, he froze when he felt Shane's solid form press up behind him. Murphy actually jolted when the other man's nose brushed the nape of his throat.

"What...?"

"You smell good," Shane murmured, other hand braced on the machine to close the Irishman in, "Clean. Nice."

"Thanks," he turned, surprised to find them almost nose to nose. He stepped back but the pinball machine stopped him. Past the stench of liquor, Shane smelled clean to. The older man's eyes held something darker than usual, his expression almost hungry. It was unnerving but he couldn't help the curl of arousal that found it's way around his cock. Fingers ran down his bicep, tracing the muscle.

"Always doin' those fuckin' pushups in the dirt, gettin' filthy," Shane was slurring, things just spilling out of him, "You pretend you can't see us watchin' but you know. You like it, you little shit."

"Maybe," Murphy watched the man's hand go up so his fingers were twisting themselves in his hair, urging him closer.

"Wonder if you kiss like Rick does?" Shane wondered aloud, then his face pinched up like he hadn't meant to voice it.

"I kiss like me," Murphy replied boldly, wondering just how far the tough man would take it, "Bet it's twice as good. Wanna find out?"

Murphy couldn't help but make a sound of surprise as he was dragged up into a harsh kiss, the man taking more than exchanging. His breath was sour with liquor but his mouth was generous, lips darker than his own. Darker than Connor's, maybe the shade of Glenn's. Not as full as the Korean's though, jaw harsher than the boy's.

There he went, unfairly comparing again.

_Shit_, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought of this a few times. The man was built like a tree and he was craving a little climb. He kissed back and Shane took it like permission, his hands clinging greedily as they ran down his neck and across the plane of his back. Fingers hooked in his hipbones, thumb nails just biting through the thin cloth of his shirt. The pinball machine dug into his back as Shane bit down on his lip.

"_Wait 'till you're inside, man, you'll change your tune."_

He could feel the hard line of the other man's arousal through his jeans, brushing against his thigh. It was too harsh. Too much, too soon.

Murphy ripped his mouth away, putting a hand on the older man's chest to push him away. He was hot to the touch and it was tempting, it really was, but he couldn't. It wasn't the best plan. Connor had been right, he was trying to push himself too hard to get over what those bastards had done to him. First Amy, now Shane...it wasn't fair. To them or himself. It was _Shane_, for fuck's sake. The man was in love with a married couple in the middle of an apocalypse. He may have taken a back seat to Rick but he was still powerful in the group dynamic. Connor had begged him not to get involved with him and that was _exactly_ what he was doing.

He wasn't going to let Shane drag him into his sick love triangle. He had his twin to think about.

"Listen, man," Murphy sighed out sharply, "I know you're sore about Lori and you're still all doe-eyed about Rick, but you can't just try and fuck the first person who'll-"

Shane backhanded him, _hard_. His head whipped to the side, pain lacing up through his cheek and down into his neck. His lips stung as he was dragged back into a kiss, a contact almost too violent to be called that.

_Don't let them do this to me._

"Fuckin' quit," Murphy rasped between their mouths, he could feel fingers curling into the hem of his shirt. Shane didn't let up. Threads tore in the older man's haste, exposing part of his stomach as the cloth gave in to his strength. Fingers dragged down to his ass and into his shorts, brushing dryly along his entrance. The younger man jerked away, grabbing a wrist and twisting the man's hand away.

"What the fuck do you know, huh?" Shane snarled, hauling him up and slamming him down, onto the pinball machine, "What _the fuck_ do you know?"

The glass threatened to break under the force, metal creaking with the Irishman's weight. Murphy thrashed, stubble burning down his neck as tried to land a solid punch. But the bastard was pressed right up against him, easily knocking back the smaller man's fists Shane was drunk enough to handle him, Murphy was too almost too drunk to remember how to stop him.

In that moment he realized something. He'd left his rosary in the bedroom.

Murphy finally struck him in the temple, shaking the older man for only a moment. Meaty fingers left his hip and found their way onto his neck, cutting off his breath enough to make him sputter.

_Stop. Stop. Stop, please, don't._

Murphy hiked his leg up between them, getting a heel wedged in until he could kick Walsh in the stomach. Shane lost his balance and tripped over his own feet, going down even harder when the Irishman launched himself at him. Murphy was quick, like a cat, landing on top of the other man and letting him taste his fist. Shane tried to sit up but the Irishman grabbed his throat, slamming him back down into the floor. He only got two hot punches in before the man managed to swing back, catching him just on the chin. It only pissed him off.

"Motherfucker!" Murphy hissed, grabbing those thick shoulders and using them for leverage to drive his knee up and into his crotch. Shane went breathless beneath him, curling in and cupping his throbbing groin. The Irishman let his nails score the flesh across the man's collarbone, forcing him to the floor once more.

"You put your hands on me again and I'll blow your world sky high!" Murphy back handed him when the man's eyes started to fall shut, "You fuckin' look at me when I'm talkin' to you!"

"God damn mick," Shane wheezed, still cradling himself.

"I'll tell Rick all about your sick affair with his wife and your creepy _fuckin'_ obsession with him."

Walsh made a grab for him but the Irishman dodged easily, rolling off him. He snatched his Jameson off the floor and got to his feet. He took a heavy swallow, looming over Shane with a striking expression that actually made him freeze.

"And I'll confess everythin' just long enough for you to suffer before I make you eat my gun."

**xXx**

Their bottles were more than half gone and the conversation had turned lighter. They talked of botched hunting trips, of how Merle worked at a fast food place for a whole summer to buy his bike, of all the times Connor had let his twin make a plan only to watch it fall through.

"He's a creative brat but he's got no imagination when it comes to strategy," Connor slurred, waving his hand, "He's too impulsive. My plans may _start_ to fail but they always come through in the end."

"Merle's always barreling into crap," Daryl was sitting crosslegged beside him, fingers busy peeling the wrapper off his whiskey bottle, "I had to bail him out of jail at least once a month. Half the skins I sold were to get him out in a night. If I let him rot in there he'd just start another fight."

"When he was here I noticed he had a stash of drugs," the blonde was hesitant to mention it, brow knitted up, "Has that always been a problem?"

"He's never seen anything else, don't judge him too hard," there was a plea to his voice, "You didn't come from much but you had somethin' growin' up. You had God and your Ma. Merle only had me and only when he would fess up to it. He spent more time locked up and pushing me away than he did anything else."

Daryl sniffed sharply, chipped nails tapping against the glass, "I'll tell you this. When he's sober and content, he's the best big brother a guy could ask for. He's never let me go hungry, he's been there every time I've been sick, and when he was home he kept dad off my back. Maybe he's not a good man, but he's...he's..."

"He's your brother," Connor grabbed the older man's forearm, wrapping his fingers around the muscle, "You don't have to explain that 'ta me or anyone else."

Daryl took a deep breath, trying to distract himself from the warmth that touch sent up his arm, "He gave me that crossbow, you know. When I turned eighteen he practically threw it at me and told me to get my shit in the car, that I needed to learn how to rely on more than a gun. He was rough about it but he's the only reason I'm still alive right now. He gave me that bow, he shoved me in the truck...I shoulda' been dead by now but he wasn't gonna let this fresh hell take me down."

Connor ran his thumb along the inside of the man's arm, breath shuddering in his chest. The mere suggestion of Daryl not around sent his heart into a harsh flutter, forcing a new adrenaline through his veins. It was almost like the fever, disorientating him as it flushed his skin.

"I've always been a bit jealous of that crossbow," Connor found himself admitting before he could stop himself. The muscle beneath his fingertips flexed, almost subconsciously

"Why?"

At least Daryl sounded just as breathless as he felt.

"Because you take care of it so well," Connor let his fingers drift to the other man's wrist, slowly raising it up, "I find myself wishin' that...that I could have all yer focus like that."

Daryl watched this with the kind of sharp focus only too much liquor could bring out in a person. Connor's eyes were soft lidded and downcast as he brought his fingers up close to his mouth, hesitating only a long moment before finally bussing his lips across the thickest of his calluses. The Dixon jolted like he'd been shocked, fingers frozen in the blonde's grip.

"What are you doin'?"

Connor laid his hand down, gathering enough courage to take what he'd wanted for so long. He got up on his knees and crawled closer, watching the hunter shudder as he slid his hand over his legs until it could lay flat against the bed. Right there behind Daryl's calves and just an inch in front of his groin, taking up so much space with just the spread of his fingers.

"Conn?" Daryl breathed, a note of worry in his voice even though he didn't move, "Connor?"

"Hush," the blonde scolded gently, "Just let me..."

Daryl almost flinched when Connor leaned in, getting so close he could smell the soap on his skin. No, this couldn't be. This was a dream, this couldn't be. The redneck clenched his eyes shut and knew – not thought, _knew_ – that when he opened them again he'd be in that house. Glenn and Murphy would be making out on the couch and they'd be in their room, naked and spread out on their bed. Not here, not in the world of walkers and fire and bullets and-

Beads touched his chest, the rosary through the shirt.

Daryl opened his eyes just in time to see Connor kiss him. It was so light it could've been hummingbird wings, just a chaste brush that sent dizzy bubbles to his head. He'd never had a panic attack before but this is what it must've been like to start one. The blonde pulled back, his own eyes half open to look at the other man's face.

Something in their minds quieted. Maybe it was the liqour, maybe it was the inevitability of it all, but it stomped down their doubt. Lashes fell shut as they came together once more, this time without anything holding them back. Not the thought of no attachments/impending violent death, not Merle's homophobia, not Murphy's worry of being abandoned, _nothing_.

It was firmer this time, just presses of smaller kisses to drink in the contact. Daryl's hand came up, fingers shaking from his racing heart and firing nerves. He threaded them into golden hair. It was just as giving as he thought it'd be beneath his palm, those brief touches he'd taken had never been enough.

Connor broke the kiss, brushing their noses instead as they panted softly. He couldn't get enough air nor enough of the man's taste, he wanted more of both but couldn't decide which was more important. Daryl felt brave enough to keep his hand in the other man's hair, he didn't want to break the spell but something was welling inside him.

"I never kissed anyone sober before," Daryl confided lowly, throat scratched up like he'd been screaming instead of kissing, "No one has ever wanted to...least before they had a few."

A self-deprecating smile twisted his spit-slicked lips, "Guess I look better after some shots."

"I've wanted to kiss you for a while now," Connor swore, pecking his lips, "Whenever you want. Sober, drunk...I wouldn't mind."

The Dixon brother brightened up, "You'd let me?"

"Shit, Daryl, you don't get it," Connor brushed his knuckles across the man's forehead, pushing back his bangs, "I'd do more than let you."

**xXx**

Murphy barely got halfway down the hall before he started shaking. He knees threatened to give out and he opted to lean against the wall, nursing the bottle greedily. He couldn't believe Shane had just...that he'd tried to...he couldn't handle it. He could feel a dozen phantom hands on him, pulling at his clothes and digging into his skin. He took harsher gulps, searing his throat. He finally had to rip it away from his lips, panting for breath so hard he almost threw up. Acid scorched the back of his throat but he managed to shove it back down.

A door opened, he flinched.

"Murphy?"

Glenn. Sweet, _safe_ Glenn. The kid came up to him and grabbed his shoulders, trying to steady him.

"What the hell happened?" Glenn questioned, lifting his hand to touch the other man's chin, "You're blood red and what happened to your shirt?"

"Shane," Murphy wheezed, "He just...he's fuckin' crazy!"

Sharp, dark eyes darted down the hall before the Korean dragged him into his room and locked the door. He urged the Irishman to sit down on his quilted cots, two pushed together so he could sprawl out greedily. Murphy set the bottle down shakily, it tipped and spilled across the carpet. Glenn couldn't find it in him to care as he watched the darker twin drop on the bed and put his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. He sat down beside him, laying his hand across the pale expanse back. While Connor had absorbed the Georgia sun like a sponge, Murphy's skin had rejected it and retained it's indoor complexion and freckling.

He started to confess in a hoarse whisper just what Shane had done.

Glenn thought he would be sick.

"I should've known," Murphy rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes until all he could see was splotches, "I saw it. I saw how drunk he was. I fuckin' _knew_ I shoulda ran because that look in his eyes – I _knew_ it."

"You couldn't have known."

"I should've!" Murphy dropped his hands, they balled into fists in his lap, "This...this has happened before."

Glenn's mouth dropped open wordlessly, eyes rounding out in disbelief.

"These fuckin' bastards took over our camp, dragged us off somewhere, drugged Connor up and wrapped me down with barbed wire," he held out his trembling hand to the light, showing off the scars that marked the flesh, "See these? Kept me strapped to a table with it. Every time I moved it just went deeper and it fuckin' _hurt._ And here."

Murphy grabbed the kid's hand and let his fingertips touch each cheek, digits following the faint grooves carved into them, "They gagged me. It looks like dirt but they're scars, they'll never fade."

"They raped you?" the Korean could barely choke the words out.

"Six or seven of 'em, maybe eight," he shook his head, letting the other go, "I can't remember. I don't want to. I've been tryin' to block it out since it happened but it keeps comin' back."

Murphy bent over, burying his face in his knees and lacing his fingers across the back of his head, "Every time I dream or relax I can _feel_ them, I can feel the wire and I can hear the walker."

"There was a geek?"

"They had a pair of them on leashes, they made one bite me," Murphy raised his head, "It was the first time I've ever seen one, it was..."

He trailed off as his gaze fell to the kid's lap. Glenn was half hard in his khaki's, the soft bulge obvious along the tan cloth. Arousal went through him like a pulse, anger chasing hot on it's heels. It was a disgusting mix that hollowed out his belly but spurred him into action. He tucked away his raw emotion and buried the real Murphy deep down below his heart, safe and sound as he slipped into the self he put on around the group. Confident, flirty, easy-going. He had thought the kid could be trusted but he was reminded, not for the first time, that this was a _man._ Glenn just wanted what all men wanted.

It was better to be easy than battered. Simpler to fake sensuality than to show how broken you really were.

"That do it for ya?" Murphy purred, an edge to his voice as he leaned into the Korean so he could brush his lips across his smooth cheek, "Picturin' me all helpless get you hard?"

"What? No!" Glenn looked down at lap and winced, "No, it's not that. No way, I'm not sick, it's just – I – you know – really, it's not _that_."

"So the pretty little chink has a power kink, huh?" Murphy trailed his lips down the other's jaw, kissing his neck, "You'd like to see me spread out for you, wouldn't you? Tie me down, fill me up."

A moan burst from Glenn's lips as the other man's hand came down and laid over his clothed cock, petting him with a certainty that made his head spin. He tried to stutter out something like an explanation but it had been too long since someone had touched him, let alone someone he'd been fantasizing about for a while.

"I know what you want," Murphy eased him down on his back, straddling his hips with one easy motion, "I can make it so good for you, sweetheart, I can make it feel like _heaven_."

The smirk melted off his face, expression too solemn for his handsome face, "It's what all men want in the end. I've learned that. This new world...you either get fucked or do the fuckin'."

Glenn took him by surprise and overpowered him, pushing him up and over onto his back. Murphy tensed all over and prepared to strike but he absolutely melted when the sweetest kiss he'd ever received came across his lips. Glenn kissed him with all the reverence he himself had kissed the feet of Jesus with back at the church in Boston. The savory taste of beer lingered on those pink lips.

"It's not what I want at all," Glenn lifted up, staring down at him with more affection than sympathy, "_You_. You make me this way. You sitting here in my bed...the way you sound, the way you smell, _everything_ just drives me up a wall. You know that. I've always...since I met you, I can't look away."

An embarrassed flush came over the Korean's face, "I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear this. Maybe it's just the beer helping me, but I'm serious.

"Glenn," was all the Irishman could say, lashes fluttering against his cheeks when the boy laced their fingers beside his head. A pale thumb swept across the width of his palm, marked with light farm work and the handles of his knives. No one but Connor had ever taken the time to stop and touch him for _touching's_ sake. He'd done it for girl's just to make them feel nice but the few boys he'd messed around with had never really cared about slowing doing, they'd only wanted to suck and stroke. But this guy right here, this unassuming little runner, was transforming right before eyes. Growing, stretching out of his harmless shell into something more.

"What those men did to you, what Shane's done, it wrong," Glenn pressed his thumb down onto the other man's wrist, laying it right over his pulse, "And when Connor looks away from you to Daryl, I see how hurt you are. There's so much I wish I could change for you but I can't."

Murphy scowled as his eyes filled with tears, heart swelling up almost painfully in his chest. He sighed out the tension he felt, his world narrowing down to the sensation of the man nuzzling down his chest. Even through the shirt it took his attention. He could only watch as Glenn pushed up the material enough to expose his stomach, finally kissing the skin below his belly button.

"I just want to help you," Glenn poured the words into his flesh like a brand.

"What are you doin' 'ta me?" Murphy's breath hitched in the middle of his words, "Your helpin' me all the time and you keep bein' nice so just tell me _what the fuck you want_ already and jus' leave me be."

"I don't want anything from you," he promised, running his fingers along the edge of the elastic, "I want to make you feel good. If you want me to stop, just say so and I'll never push you again. But if you don't care, let me do this."

Murphy huffed out a curse as he fingers worked his underwear down, he lifted his hips in silent agreement. He heart was racing but he felt like he needed it. Something soft and slow, something he'd never had before. Breath fanned across his pubic bone, mouth hesitant as it traced the path down to his hardening cock. Maybe for a few moments he could pretend like they were in an apartment somewhere, a white-washed place that would smell like mint and laundry detergent. They'd be spread out on a bed with plush pillows and they'd be bare, sunlight would stream in through blinds and across their bodies. They could be any two random people in the world, just two hearts in a bed with nothing but pleasure on the brain. In a perfect world they would've met a coffee shop or at a bookstore, chancing to talk after picking up the same brand of paints or having ordered the same kind of pastry. Maybe he'd catch Glenn's eye in a bar or maybe they could've stumbled into the same cab. They could have met a hundred different ways, each one more bland and normal than the last.

Hands stroked down his thighs, parting them to give himself some more room.

Tonight he could pretend they were in love.

Glenn swallowed his nerves as best he could. He'd never done anything like this before, even going down on a girl had eluded him. But he'd meant every word he'd said earlier and he wasn't about to back out now just because he was getting some butterflies.

Murphy tipped his head back and closed his eyes, the alcohol was starting to get to him. It was making his blood flutter like wings through his temples, curving up into his mind and tilting his world on it's side. It was dizzying but the true disorientation didn't come until he felt the first wet slide of lips over the head of his cock, something he hadn't felt in a long time. That first touch had him moaning like a teenager, his back bowing up in surprise pleasure.

He managed to pry open his eyes long enough to look down at his partner. Glenn was fisting his cock, brows knitted up as he stared down at he swollen flesh. It was curiosity and desire, a sense of wonder, before his mouth closed around the length again. The kid sucked cock like he kissed. _Worshipfully._ He swam in the feeling, letting it take over everything else. Though Glenn's technique was a little amateur he didn't let it stop him from giving it everything he had, taking the other down his throat with quiet little gagging sounds.

"_Josim_, _yeppeun_," he barely heard the words and he wondered if they were his own, "Don' hurt yourself."

It was as close to blissful as he was going to get.

Pressure started to build up low in his stomach. Glenn's hands were along the backs of his thighs, curving up around to splay his fingers across soft hip bones. Each glide of his lips was wet and smooth, going down only most of the way but using his tongue in a way that made the other twitch and try to thrust up into his throat.

Murphy ripped his hand from it's death grip on the blanket above his head, bringing it down to find a fistful of dark hair that wasn't as soft as he'd thought it be. It gave Glenn another edge, the coarseness beneath his fingers sending little sparks up through his hand. He sucked in a great breath and held it, heat burning through his gut and up into his chest until it was almost choking him.

Glenn sunk down on him, taking every inch with a harsh flutter of his throat.

The breath was punched out of him, the pressure burst. It was sharp and tore through him, eating up every feeling until it took up his entire world. And just like _that_ it rounded out and bled through him, easing up as his entire body sunk into the blankets. The kid's tongue was dancing across the cut head of his cock, licking up every drop he could find. Just the touch of his lips now sent shivers up his spine, hips shifting restlessly as he tiredly let him have whatever he wanted.

Murphy let his fingers relax in the mass of raven hair, he'd acquired a death grip in the height of his climax. He let them trail down the back of Glenn's neck, almost petting. The runner pulled off, mouth still shiny as he nuzzled along the Irishman's thigh. Murphy caught his chin and tipped his head up, thumb smearing cum and saliva along his lower lip. It was almost obscene across the full flesh, breath stuttered over his knuckles in excitement.

Glenn was still wanting.

That was easily fixed.

**xXx**

Daryl's back was to the wall now. Both bottles sat near empty on the floor and out of reach, no longer needed to get the high they were seeking. Connor was perched in his lap, palms cradled along the redneck's throat as he ate at his mouth. It felt like they'd been kissing for hours, just tasting each other, indulging heavily in the one thing they'd denied themselves in a time when it was encouraged to live for the moment. It was a flood wall. After that first peck they'd barely contained themselves, Daryl had even dragged the Irishman into his lap for better access. His hands were anchored onto Connor's hips under his shirt, thumbs finding a home in the slight hollow of his hips.

They broke away but just barely, enough to pull fresh air into their lungs. All they could taste was each other, liquor and cigarettes and _human._ There was no hiding their enjoyment, they could feel how hard the other was by the crush of their hips. It was maddeningly delicious.

"We should stop," Connor suggested roughly, wanting anything but.

Daryl whined in the back of his throat, beyond words as he pulled him closer by the grip on his waist.

"We keep goin' and I won't want to stop," Connor pointed out as he started to slide out of the man's lap. Daryl darted one hand up to the back of his neck, grabbing him and yanking him down into another kiss. The blonde gave in for a moment, letting the man taste him. It had taken a few minutes but Daryl had picked up on proper kissing quick for someone who'd rarely done it in the past.

Connor dropped his hand into the older man's lap, cupping his groin firmly. Daryl jumped back into the wall, having nowhere to go and jolting his head against the surface instead. A distressed sound escaped his lips without his consent, his own hand dropping down to grab his wrist. He let go the moment he realized what he was doing, eyes darting to the bedspread. Connor moved his hand away, point made.

"You said you never kissed anyone sober," Connor reminded him, running his knuckles down the line of buttons on the redneck's shirt, "God be damned if I let our first time be when we're both pissed."

Daryl looked back at him, surprise taking over his expressive face, "First time?"

The blonde pulled his hand away, "I didn't mean...I assumed, I guess."

They were quiet for a long time after that but they didn't move away, absorbing body heat like sponges.

"I can barely concentrate," Connor half lied, he could honestly only concentrate on the feeling of Daryl's chapped lips against his own, "Maybe gettin' drunk wasn't the best way to go about this."

"Maybe it was the _only_ way we'd do this."

The near-resigned, unsteady tone of the older man's voice pulled at his heartstrings.

"I've wanted to," Connor decided to lay it all out, "For a while now."

Daryl fingers flexed across the nape of his neck, almost anchoring himself, "Me too."

Connor took a hold of the hand along his throat and dragged it to his face, nuzzling it in a way he'd never admit to in a room full of men. He let the rough palm lay along his cheek. They were both blood hot and flushed from their encounter and the alcohol, a comfort they hadn't felt in much too long.

"I don't want to push you into anythin'," he whispered, too afraid to break the soft spell of the room, "But I want more."

"I think..." Daryl swallowed, honesty drying up his throat, "I think I do too."

"Then I'm gonna go now," Connor slowly got off the bed, balance still off, "We'll sober up and try this again later, if that's okay."

"More than," Daryl already ached to hold him again, "The others-"

"Hush," the blonde stated firmly, finger tapping his lips, "It ain't none of their business, is it?"

The hunter's smile was beyond grateful.

Without another word Connor left, shutting the door behind him. Once he knew he was alone in the hall he let his back rest against it. His heart was fluttering madly in his chest, his breath was coming in little gasps of excitement. He couldn't believe what had just happened. After months of waiting, agonizing weeks of frustration, he'd finally gotten somewhere. His heart, usually so chained up when not wrapped around his twin, was as lively as if he were being chased. In a way, he was.

Connor forced himself to push away from the door and head to his room. If he lingered he was sure he would give in to the urge to go back inside and finish what he started.

What he didn't know was that Daryl was sprawling out on his bed, wishing desperately that he would give in to those urges and join him.

**xXx**

They dozed together on the makeshift bed, washed out from the day and completely spent. Murphy was flat on his back with Glenn half curled on him, head resting on his shoulder. He didn't really think twice about wrapping his arm around the Korean, letting his fingers trace the line of his arm through his shirt sleeve. Glenn's pants laid on the floor somewhere, a long casualty of their tryst.

After a while Murphy took a deep breath, eyes fluttering open as he took in his surroundings. He was still a little tipsy but he knew he wanted to sleep in his own room with his brother. He slipped out from under the Korean and threw his legs over the edge, stretching his arms high over his head before standing up. Fingers caught his wrist, thumb rubbing the inside of his wrist. The touch was painfully intimate in his retreat.

"You should stay," his voice was rough with sleep but serious.

Murphy swung his hand pointedly, grinning, "I'm gonna go back to my room."

Glenn tried not to grimace at the words but it was hard, "Don't leave."

"I'm right down the hall," Murphy laughed quietly, leaning down over the other, "I'll see you in the morning. I always do, don't I?"

Glenn accepted the light brush he wanted to call a kiss, forcing a small smile of his own. The Irishman slipped out of his grip and through the door in moments, as quick as ever. The vulnerable, soft Murphy he'd seen only an hour ago was gone. Shoved under a dozen layers of mirth and easy smiles, buried from the world. He'd never seen someone so practiced at hiding.

He'd known what this was from the start. He may have been a virgin to most things like this but he wasn't an idiot. Murphy may have been nice and flirted with him, but he didn't belong to anyone but his twin. Sex didn't equal love. Whatever made his heart tender for the Irishman didn't matter because the facts were set in stone. Murphy didn't owe him anything and getting upset over it would only result in him never seeing the man in his bed again.

But it had been so nice while it had lasted.

Glenn yanked off his shirt and tossed it, pulling the quilt the other man had been laying on up to his nose. He inhaled deeply, catching clove and sex and sweat and those fucking cigarettes. Even that unscented, strong soap from the showers hadn't washed away the tar and chemicals.

As he settled down to try and sleep, the night replayed behind his eyelids. Of Murphy dragging him back up into a kiss that tasted of pure sex, of getting rolled onto his back and touched everywhere by those clever hands. Teeth across his chest, a hot mouth across his cock, whispered endearments in Korean that made him breathless. _Yeppeun_ was probably carved into his flesh somewhere from just the heat of Murphy's lips. Glenn buried his face his pillow and tried not to think about it anymore.

His heart already hurt, he didn't want it to break.

**xXx**

Murphy couldn't stop smiling as he found his brother waiting for him at their chosen bedroom door, more drunk than he'd been before he'd left but satisfied all the same. Connor ushered him inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

"You look like hell," Connor eyed him carefully, "What happened to your chin? And yer shirt's torn up. Did you get in a fight out there or somethin'?"

Murphy shrugged as he stripped off his clothes, flesh bared for his brother's gaze if he chose to see it. The blonde kept his tongue clipped as he shed his clothes too, at ease with his twin enough not to give a rat's ass about propriety.

"We should push the cots together and put a shit ton of blankets on top," Murphy suggested as he helped his brother pull two folded up cots out of the closet, "It's nice, actually."

They worked like clockwork, one tossing down blankets while the other flicked them open and spread them over the cots. In minutes they had a pretty comfy looking bed. Murphy was the first to plop down, testing it out. Connor went to turn the wall lamp off but he saw the little nip marks on his brother's throat and bristled.

"What did you get into?"

The brunette rubbed a hand over his neck, feeling his twin's gaze, "Glenn."

Connor's jaw dropped dumbly, "Murph..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Murphy snapped. His treacherous mind kept flashing to Shane's mouth slanting across his, hands groping him through his clothes and down into his pants.

"I wasn't goin' to tear you down or nothin', you know that," Connor assured him, "But you're not okay. Did he do somethin' to ya?"

"It wasn't Glenn."

Connor fingers curled into tight fists, "Who, then?"

His brother kept his mouth shut as he pulled the sheet into his lap.

The archer thumped his fist against the wall, "Who?!"

"It doesn't matter, just let it go," he implored. Connor tucked his fingers beneath his brother's chin and tilted his head up to the light, revealing blood shot eyes and fresh tears. He'd clearly been drinking and someone had shaken him up. Glenn couldn't have done this but he could think of a choice few in the group who could have.

"My dear brother."

Murphy dropped his head in shame and laid down in their new bed, bunching the pillow up under his head so he could put his back to his twin. Connor flicked off the lamp and let his eyes adjust to the dark before he laid down as well, slowly easing up behind his twin. The moment his chest touched Murphy's back the other released a shuddering sigh before pressing back into him.

Connor forgot all about his giddy excitement over Daryl for a calmer, more precious emotion that only came out with his twin. He wrapped an arm around Murphy's waist and laced their fingers together across his pale stomach, just an inch from his fading walker scar. It wasn't the light touch of digits they used to comfort one another, it was stronger and much more like an anchor.

Connor pressed his mouth to the back of his brother's neck, not quite a kiss, "Love you."

Out of his sight, tears still trickled.

"Love you too."

**xXx**

Murphy was the first up the next morning, though he only knew by the clock on the wall what time it really was. Too early to matter but he couldn't go back to sleep. Between the nightmares and the sense memory flashes he'd barely got a few minutes at a time, at least it felt that way. His brother was still sound asleep and flat on his belly, arms rucked up under the pillow to support his head. He looked just as tousled as he did awake, though his cheeks weren't as flushed as they had been last night. Nonetheless he seemed content, a welcome relief from the fever induced delirium he'd been suffering only yesterday. Their mother had always told them they were fighters and Connor had proven it. His twin had gone through the hell that he had escaped, his fever hadn't been half as bad as what his brother had managed to get through.

He had always been the lucky one.

Murphy dropped a kiss in his twin's golden hair and dropped his forehead to his tan shoulder, letting it lay there for a few moments before getting up. He quietly dug around the room, pulling open every drawer and opening every cabinet until he found a pair of jeans that were only a size too big and a belt. He found a few shirts folded up in the very bottom drawer of a small dresser, he took a navy blue tank top and yanked it over his head.

He slipped out of the room and went down the hall on eggshells, mindful of the group's snores. He got to the cafeteria and started rifling through the cabinets, this time for food. He found powdered milk and lots of bottled water, dehydrated eggs, powdered orange juice (but a really good brand), coffee, a working coffee machine, frozen bacon, dry pancake mix but no syrup. Thankfully the lazy susan revealed brown sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla.

"Look at me, Ma," Murphy was grinning ear to ear as he laid all the ingredients out on one of the counters, "No hands."

He started mixing and soaking and frying until he was starting to come up with real food, though he dirtied a dozen dishes trying to do it. Once he had a moment he set cold water bottles out for everyone, paper plates and forks in front of each chair. He took the urn of orange juice he'd whipped together and poured half-glasses, enough for everyone. He left little powder prints all over everything he touched, including broad swipes across his shirt and pants when he brushed his palms across it.

The group had been kind to them except for the panic when Connor had been bit. But they hadn't shot him. Even though they'd wanted to, if just a moment, they hadn't and most had been happy to see his brother immune and walking. That, and they all deserved as many good meals as they could get into them.

Dale was the first to arrive, looking well-rested and even smiling a little beneath the tuft of his beard. Murphy quickly served him up a cup, getting an even wider grin. They exchanged nods, one of gratitude and one of forgiveness.

T-Dog came next, only he came with an apology, "Anything I can do to help?"

Murphy tisked but he ended up nodded, "You're in charge of the eggs. Think you can handle that?"

He flashed his teeth in a smirk, "Yeah, I got it."

Andrea came in, silent but hungry, and Jacqui soon followed. They talked with Dale about nonsense things and tried to keep up the pretense of normal. Murphy didn't perk up until he spotted Glenn stumbling into the kitchen, the kid obviously hung over as hell. Maybe he shouldn't have encouraged him to drink so much but it had been so much fun watching him try to chug a beer.

Glenn was rubbing the sleep from his aching eyes when he heard something, a soft whistle. He squinted to adjust to the light but he managed to focus on the man leaning across the counter. Murphy had one hand braced on the table and the other held out, one finger offered up as it dripped thickly with something amber and shiny.

"Is that syrup?" he croaked.

"Come taste and find out," Murph winked, "Hurry up or you'll waste it."

Ignoring the looks from the others, Glenn walked up and took hold of the Irishman's wrist. After a seconds hesitation he licked a clean stripe up the digit. The too-public display sent a jolt of fear and arousal through his groin, the syrup exploding across his tongue. His hangover was bad but he hadn't had syrup in months and it was too good to pass up, even with the nausea.

"Sit down and get some water, don't look at the light," Murphy sucked the rest of his finger, watching the other's eyes go wide at the shameless display, "There's a good lad. You'll be fine."

Almost in a daze, Glenn took a seat and grabbed a bottle of water for his own. Jacqui raised a brow at him but didn't say anything. They were all getting used to Murphy's severe bursts of flirtation but this was pushing it. Her look didn't pass judgment so he only forced a smile before he dropped his head, concentrating on the ripples the bottle made every time he moved it. His head was pounding through a warrior's rhythm and it was taking everything he had not to throw up on the table, he didn't have time to worry about what the group thought of him.

Connor wandered in, he had pulled on that filthy red sleeveless shirt he loved to hunt in. He didn't look too worse for wear, all things considering. Wanting to show his brother he was okay, Murphy started bustling around the table forking out bacon and small pancakes drenched in syrup.

Jacqui took a bite and made an obscene sound, patting his butt when he walked by, "Marry me, boy, because these are amazing."

"Get in line, love," Murphy shot her a wink, giving Glenn a good bit of the bacon, "You need protein for that head 'a yers."

"That's too-"

"There's more to come, hush up," Murphy commanded, going back for the second round.

Jenner appeared as silent as a snake, weaving through them to place a bottle of aspirin beside the Korean. Glenn moaned out a thank you and practically ripped the cap open with his teeth, taking down three with a gulp of water and some pancake.

Carol and Sophia joined them in time for the first helping of eggs. Connor turned in his chair and grinned at them, all charm now.

"Look at you two, just lovely as the mornin' sun and all it's splendid glory," his accent came out a little thicker, voice breaking in for the day, "Come sit by me. Please, I insist."

Carol laughed as she sat down, thanking T-Dog as he gave her a pile of scrambled eggs. Sophia went to sit down but Connor scooped her up gracefully, getting a high pitched giggle out of her.

"No, princess, you sit right here and you eat everythin' you can get your hands on," Connor handed her his fork, "Go on while it's hot."

"Are these pancakes?" she sounded stunned.

"Of course."

Her mouth pulled in a frown, "There's no butter?"

"Sophia," Carol whispered in a sharp tone, one that told her daughter what she said was inappropriate.

"Hmm, let's see here," Connor hummed, plucking up a sticky pancake and examining it, "Looks good to me. Let's see how it tastes."

He popped it in his mouth noisily, making faces that made her smile.

"Tastes just perfect," he promised her, "Addin' butter would be a sin."

She tasted it and brightened, shoveling more into her mouth as fast as she could.

"Slow down, slow down!" Connor implored on the tail end of a chuckle, "There's plenty."

Daryl wandered in with just a bit of a headache, mouth sour from the whiskey. He hid his smile at the way Connor and Sophia laughed together and playfully fought over the food on his plate, he battled with his fingers while she threatened to spear. He only saw Connor smile so freely with the kids. He'd been graced with that smile a few times but only when they were alone. It was like seeing a rainbow or some shit.

"Sit. Food."

Daryl rolled his eyes at Murphy's curt command, taking a plate and some water and hanging back near the counter instead. The darker twin glared at him for his choice and they had a nice stare off before food was piled onto his plate. He ate gratefully, even gave a nod at T-Dog when he passed. He watched Connor wet a napkin and wipe the girl's face, clearing it of all the syrup she'd managed to get on herself.

"There we are, lass, clean like spring," Connor wiped his own, "And now we match. Go get some juice and sit here by your mum while I stuff my face for a bit, yeah?"

He easily picked her up and set her on her feet, sending her on her way to the fridge.

Lori and Carl came in and he greeted them just as warmly, calling for his brother to fill up their plates. Murphy obliged, dropping a kiss on the woman's cheek when she thanked him. He gave Carl extra pancakes, the boy bumping fists with him in thanks.

"Any time, little man," Murphy promised, turning around to head back to the kitchen. He caught sight of Shane at the mouth of the kitchen, gasping hoarsely as the empty plate slipped through his fingers.

"Whoa!" Lori caught the plate, arm stretched almost painfully around the back of her chair, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," Murphy breathed out quickly, taking the dish as he ripped his eyes off the approaching man, "Jus' startled it all."

Murphy quickly slipped back into the kitchen and out of Shane's way, busying his hands up to make more food. His breath may have been a little quicker but he looked calm on the outside, face purposefully blank. Connor missed the whole exchange, too busy dancing his fork teasingly at the edge of Sophia's plate. She squealed in protest, their utensils locking in a mock sword fight.

But Lori saw it. When Murphy had seen Shane she couldn't mistake the look on the darker twin's face for anything but fear.

Rick came in, patting his best friend on the back as he passed him, "Hey."

"Hey," Shane muttered, keeping his head ducked as he went over to the coffee.

"Are you hungover?" Carl asked his dad, grinning around a mouthful of eggs, "Mom said you'd be."

Rick managed a smile at his son, sitting down carefully so not to jostle his head, "Mom is right."

Lori picked at bacon, "Mom has that annoying habit."

"This'll help," T-Dog spooned eggs onto his plate, "Bet you can't tell they're powdered."

"Thanks," the sheriff rasped, accepting the water his wife passed to him.

"This too," Glenn kept his head down as he moaned, pushing the aspirin toward the older man.

Rick looked around, "Where'd all this come from?"

"Murphy," Jenner waved his palm toward the Irishman, "I just supplied the medicine."

"Thank God for both," the Korean slowly spooned eggs into his mouth, wincing as the metal brushed his teeth, "Don't ever _ever_ let me drink again."

"How about you, brother? How you holdin' up over there?" Rick called, his partner blowing across the surface of his coffee, "Feel as bad as I do?"

"Worse," Shane grunted, coming toward the table.

T-Dog got a good look at him, "The hell happened to you?"

There was a small bruise forming along his temple and three perfect fingernail scratches down the line of his throat. They started out deep and tapered off like a smooth rock through the water, little dots of reddened flesh.

Shane only shrugged, "Must've done it in my sleep."

"Never seen you do that before," Rick commented.

"Me neither," Shane met Murphy's eyes as the Irishman set the container of mixed orange juice in the middle of the table, "Not like me at all."

"You should be more careful," the darker twin advised off handedly, "We don't want you hurtin' yourself, Shane."

"I'll try to be more careful _next_ time," the older man emphasized, getting a narrowed glare from the slighter man.

"Doctor," Dale spoke up, plate clear, "I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing-"

"But you will anyway," there was a half-smile around the rim of the doctor's coffee mug.

"We didn't come here for the eggs," Andrea stated, the steadiest thing she'd said in days.

"_After_ breakfast," Murphy clicked his tongue warningly when the doctor tried to stand, "We've all been waitin' for answers since we first saw a geek. We can wait another hour for our bellies to fill up and the aspirin to kick in."

Glenn grabbed his shirt, tugging it, "You too. Sit down and eat."

"But-"

Connor got up and took the pan from his brother, shaking his head. He filled up a plate and put it on the table, shoving his protesting twin in a seat between him and Glenn.

"Eat, brat," Connor scolded fondly, ruffling his brother's hair only to get his hand swatted at.

Daryl was the only one who saw the heated glare Shane was shooting at the Irishman.

**xXx**

The group followed Jenner into the big screen area, sitting and scattering around the circular room. The doctor had Vi pull up recordings of TS-19, someone's brain in their last moments of life. It was a hauntingly beautiful display. An enhanced internal view showed brilliantly firing synapses, so alive and bright it was hard to imagine them as anything but.

"What are those lights?" Shane asked, eyes fixated on the screen just like everyone else's.

"It's a person's life," Jenner replied, a breathy note to his voice, "Experiences, memories. It's everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you – the thing that makes you unique. And human."

"We are so small," Connor declared softly, brow furrowed up as he studied the firing synapses, "So _tiny_ compared to the world. Just a bit of circuitry. Lights and clockwork."

Murphy grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers. The blonde blinked over at him as if he'd forgotten he was there, slowly squeezing back.

"Sorry," Connor muttered under his breath.

"Contrary to what you said, you _are_ just as pretty on the inside," Jenner joked, bringing the lighter twin back out of his thoughts.

"It's all spiritual, scientific mumbo-jumbo to me," Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a desk, "Don't you ever make sense, Doc?"

"Those are synapses," Jenner explained, pointing up toward the screen, "Electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages."

Some were still frowning in confusion.

"It's what determines whether we like butter on our pancakes," Sophia grinned behind her doll's woven hair, "It's what creates the monsters in our nightmares and the beaches in our dreams. These little bits of light determine how well you skin a squirrel or how well you shoot a gun. It's what makes us love our brothers," Murphy bumped shoulders with his twin, "It's what makes us crave a kiss from a certain set of lips, even if we think it's wrong."

Daryl glanced over at Conner too quick for anyone to notice.

"They determine everything a person says, does, or thinks from the moment of birth to the moment of death."

Rick wet his dry lips, "So this is a vigil?"

"Yes," the doctor blinked out of his daze, "Or rather the playback of a vigil."

"This person died?" Andrea crept closer, hands stuffed in her pockets, "Who?"

"Test Subject 19. Someone who was bitten but didn't have the luck of her coworkers. She volunteered to have us record the progress. Vi, scan forward to the first event."

"_Scanning to first event." _

The video scanned forward, something like tar creeping up through the subject's neck and into the brain. It was expanding up into the synapses, eating up bits and pieces as it spidered out.

Glenn glanced over the doctor, "What is that?"

"It invades the brain like, say, meningitis," Jenner gestured.

"We both had meningitis as kids," Murphy threw his chin up at the screen, "Ma said we were nearly down for the count. In bed for two months after."

"Maybe that was it," Jenner smiled weakly, "Maybe almost dying has kept you alive."

The subject on the screen writhed, the doctor swallowed audibly, "The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown, then the major organs. Then death."

The subject's brain went black, destroyed.

"Everything you ever were or ever will be...gone."

Sophia put her hand on the hem of her mom's shirt, "Is that what happened to Jim?"

Carol nodded, petting through her daughter's hair, "Yes."

Jacqui and Andrea looked visibly shaken.

Murphy let his brother's hand go and looped his arm around his neck, banging their heads together, "Glad it wasn't you."

There was no mirth in his voice, only unbelievable relief and an edge of despair.

"I'm glad you dodged that bullet, Murphy," Jenner's voice was low and sympathetic, "It's devastating. To have someone you love most in the world ripped away from you...it would've destroyed you."

Connor gripped his twin's hip protectively.

"Scan to second event."

"_Scanning to second event."_

"The resurrection times vary wildly. We had reports of it happening in as little as three minutes to the longest of eight hours. The gestation period of the fever can be...it can be any amount of time. Connor's fever lasted, what? Twelve hours? More?"

"More," Murphy wiped his mouth with the edge of his sleeve, "Mine only lasted five hours or so."

"You were so, _so_ lucky," the doctor breathed before speaking up, "In the case of this patient it was two hours, one minute...seven seconds."

Some red light started appearing at the base of the subject's brain, flickering faintly up through the rest of it. Like a ghost.

"It restarts the brain?" Lori awed.

"No, just the brain stem," Jenner corrected, "Basically, it gets them up and moving."

Rick came forward, "But they're not alive?"

The doctor shrugged, holding out his arms, "You tell me."

"It's nothin' like before," Rick shook his head, "Most of that brain is dark."

"Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, that human part – that doesn't come back. The _you_ part. Just a shell, driven by mindless instinct."

"God," Carol gasped sharply, "What was that?"

"He shot his patient in the head," Andrea answered, voice strained, "Didn't you?"

Jenner turned his back on the screen, walking away, "Vi, power down the main screen and the workstations."

"_Powering down main screen and workstations."_

"You have no idea what it is, do you?" Andrea accused.

"It could be microbial," Jenner shook his head, "Viral, parasitic, fungal."

"Or the wrath of God," Jacqui spat, jaw tight.

The doctor looked over his shoulder, "There is that."

"God would never do this, He wouldn't put this hell upon us," Murphy protested, "This is Man, pure and simple."

"Somebody must know something," Andrea rubbed her hand over her forehead, "Somebody somewhere."

"There are others, right?" Carol implored, "Other facilities?"

"There may be _some_," the doctor confessed reluctantly, "People like me."

"But you don't know?" Rick persisted hotly, "How can you not know?"

"Everything went down. Communications, directives – all of it. I've been in the dark for almost four months."

"So it's not just here?" the blonde woman sounded exasperated, "There's nothing left anywhere? Nothing? That's what you're really saying, right?"

Jenner didn't reply, his expression said it all. Disappointment flowed through the group, breaking over them in waves and quickly followed by despair. Andrea could hardly get a full breath and Rick had never looked so crestfallen.

Jacqui leaned against one of the desks, hand to her heart, "Jesus."

"Man, I'm gonna get shit-faced drunk," Daryl drawled, digging the heels of his palms into his temples, "_Again_."

"Dr. Jenner," Dale approached, "I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to ask one more question, but that clock – it's counting down. What happens when it hits zero?"

"The basement generators," the doctor reluctantly let go of the words, "They...run out of fuel."

He turned away quickly, unable to take their sharpening stares.

"And then?" Rick demanded, but the CDC worker wasn't giving an inch, "Vi! What happens when the power runs out?"

"_When power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur."_

"Decontamination?" Murphy whispered, blanching at the taste of the word in his mouth.

He sounded as terrified as everyone suddenly felt.

**xXx**

Rick led a small group in search of the generators, yearning to prove the doctor wrong. They spread out like ants across the ghost town Jenner called a basement, quick in checking every container to confirm it's contents. What they found robbed them of hope. Dry bottoms, bare walls, nothing to go on. And when the lights went out Murphy jumped, shrugging off the hand Glenn put on his shoulder to calm him.

"I'm not a child, jus' startled me is all," Murphy snarled, squinting around, "Who the fuck turned out the lights?"

T-Dog appeared around the corner with the other Irishman, "Not us. Must've just gone off on their own."

"Shit," Connor's dread was starting to choke him, "It can't be down to just that last tick, could it?"

But Shane's flashlight was trained on the level gauge, proving just how horribly true it was.

**xXx**

Rick's group met up with the others in the main lab, they were hovering around Jenner demanding to know why the lights and air had shut off. Apparently Zone 5 was shutting itself down, eliminating all sources of nonessential functions to keep the computers running until the last second. Until the end. The doctor finally answered the question of who would know what this was, the French. They were the last to hold out in the face of the apocalypse.

Jenner ascended the stairs to the upper platform, "They thought they were close to a solution."

"What happened?" Jacqui inquired.

"The same thing that's happening here," the doctor turned to face them, looking more haggard than they had seen before, "No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel."

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, "How stupid is that?"

"Let me tell you somethin'!" Shane charged at the man but his best friend grabbed his arm and dragged him back.

"Would you stop for a second?"

"Doctor," Murphy pleaded, chasing after the older man, "There has to be somethin' we can do. There's cars outside, we can get fuel."

"And _you_," Jenner whipped around and grabbed him by the face, thumb digging into the hollow of the Irishman's cheek, "You little miracles just dropped into my lap after _months_ of pointless research. You and your brother could salvage this world but it's too late."

Murphy shoved him away, eyes wide in fear.

"Don't you put that on us!" Connor snarled, moving in front of his brother, "You had your little subjects just like us. It's not our fault you didn't learn anythin' from them!"

"If guns weren't so _God damn_ tasty we would've had them longer!"

The almost manic scream silenced the group, the lighter twin jerked back and away from the other man. There was something dead in his eyes now, a resignation that could only lead to certain end.

"Saviors," Jenner breathed, hands clenched into fists at his side, "God just sent you too late."

"I've had it with this," Rick declared, grabbing Connor's arm and stealing his attention, "I don't care what he has to say, don't you listen to him. Lori! Grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff. We're getting out of here - _now_!"

And alarm started to sound.

"_Thirty minutes to decontamination."_

"Doc, what's goin' on here, damn it!" Daryl demanded fiercely.

"Everybody, y'all heard Rick!" Shane shouted over the alarm, "Get your stuff and let's go! Go now! Go!"

There was a mighty roar before the door to the hallway rose up, sealing them inside. Fresh terror seized the group, they stilled like a herd of gazelle in the face of a predator.

"Did you just lock us in?" Glenn's voice sounded tight, like his hair was being cut off, "He just locked us in!"

Realization hit Daryl first. His face scrunched up in a scowl, feet quick to take him at the doctor. Rick saw it and yelled for Shane, pointing at the bull run of the redneck.

"You son-of-a-bitch! You locked us in here! I'll kill ya!"

Shane barely managed to catch the Dixon around the neck and drag him back before he heard Rick's next shout, "Connor, stop!"

The Irishman barreled forward and tackled the doctor out of his chair, getting a hand around his throat, "Motherfucker!"

"Whoa, man!" T-Dog wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him up, muscles straining against the thrashing blonde, "Don't do this!"

Connor was screaming and prying at the black man's forearm with one hand while the other reached for the doctor still, trying to claw his eyes right out. It was a task hurling both men off the upper deck and down the ramp, Shane and T-Dog physically blocking them from getting back at Jenner.

The doctor started to explain to the others just why he couldn't open the door, saying he didn't have the authority and that this place had to be sealed because of all the things within the CDC's vault. Connor couldn't hear a word of it past the pain in his hip and the heart beat in his ears. Daryl saw him cradling his wound, face pulled in something more than discomfort.

"They fuckin' hurt you?" Daryl crawled closer, blocking the slighter man from view of the others with the breadth of his shoulders.

" 'M fine, just got handled the wrong way," Connor gasped as he pulled away his hand to see a smear of blood, the skin had broken and was leaking in some places across the bite, "Oh fuck me."

Daryl wanted to tell them everything was going to be okay but he couldn't find it in him to lie. Instead he put an arm around the Irishman's shoulders and helped him sit up off his knees, looking him right in the eyes. There were a hundred things he wanted to say but he couldn't, not with the prying ears of the group so close. Even if they were about to die he couldn't admit to the fact that he could _maybealittlecompletely_ be in love with this man.

"As long as I'm breathin', ain't no one gonna hurt you," Daryl promised lowly before he got up on his feet, leaving him behind. Connor just sat there breathless, stunned, but only for a moment. He quickly got up and followed the Dixon brother back up the ramp to the level. Vi was explaining just what was going to happen when the clock ran out, the deployment of something called 'HIT's.

"_HITs: High-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen at between 5,000 and 6,000 degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage destruction is desired." _

Murphy was close to hyperventilating, "You're goin' to burn us alive."

"It sets the air on fire," Jenner was looking down at the ground, as if he were imagining it, "No pain. An end to sorrow, grief...regret. Everything."

"Who made you judge and jury?" Connor spat.

"Someone has to," Jenner's mouth pulled up at the irony of it all, "God stopped calling the shots. I'm just stepping up to the plate."

**xXx**

Glenn and Daryl pushed and pulled at the door but there was no give. The Korean dug his nails into the edges and tried to pry it down but there was nothing. No latch, no buttons, not even a keypad to try and play with. Daryl roared in frustration and Glenn only had a moment to duck out of his way before he hurled his whiskey bottle at the door, glass shattering loudly and clinking to the floor like rain.

"Open the damn door!" Daryl bellowed, rage outweighing his worry.

"Out of my way!" Shane roared, going at the door with an axe. Sparks danced along the surface as the blade hit it but it didn't even leave a scratch. T-Dog threw Daryl an axe and the redneck joined him, trying to cut their way out. Murphy was looking over the control panels, trying to find and emergency stop or abort button or _anything_ that could help them.

Connor stayed by the doctor, silent and staring at him with morbid fascination. His bite had stopped bleeding, it barely hurt anymore. Carol and Lori sat with their backs to one of the desks, their children curled in their laps and crying. Jacqui and Andrea lingered as well, unsure what to do with themselves.

"You know what's out there," Jenner sighed, "A short, brutal life and an agonizing death. Your sister – what was her name?"

"Amy," Andrea replied.

"Then you've seen it. You know what it can do. Is that what you want for your family? Your friends?"

"I don't want this," Rick insisted emphatically.

Shane came up to them, panting, "Can't make a dent."

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher," if he hadn't sound so resigned they could've sworn Jenner was mocking them.

Daryl approached with the axe still in his hands, "Well yer head ain't!"

Dale, T-Dog, Rick, and Shane all had to hold the redneck back this time. They screamed at him to stop, to back up, to calm down. T-Dog took the axe from him, practically ripping it from his hands.

"You do want this," Jenner pointed out, "Last night you said it was only a matter of time before everybody you loved was dead."

"What? You really said that?" Shane frowned, "After all your big talk?"

"I had to keep hope alive, didn't I?" Rick countered.

"There is no hope, not anymore," Jenner pointed at Connor's hip where just three pinpricks of blood had soaked through, "Any fighting chance we have is inside those veins. It's walking with you, eating with you, and it's scattered in the rotting corpses of the hundreds of thousands who weren't quick enough to escape the dead. Realistically, how many of them do you think are left in the world? A thousand? A hundred? Maybe a dozen? And who am I kidding? The chances of getting one of them to powered facility for the year it would take to make a small amount of vaccine is slim to none. And what if we did create a vaccine? What then? I pretty sure we don't even have a proper breeding pool anymore."

The doctor scrubbed a hand over his eyes, his laugh sounding more like a sob, "_Hope_. There was never any hope."

"There's always hope," Rick protested vehemently, "Maybe it won't be you, maybe not here, but _somebody somewhere_-"

"What part of 'everything is gone' do you not understand?" Andrea snapped.

"Listen to your friend," Jenner advised, "She gets it. This is what takes us down. This is our extinction event."

"This isn't right," Carol sobbed, "You can't just keep us here."

"It's one tiny moment," Jenner soothed, leaning forward in his chair, "A millisecond. No pain."

"My daughter doesn't deserve to die like _this_."

They started to get up and move away from the set-minded doctor.

"Wouldn't it be kinder, more compassionate, to hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?"

No one saw Shane disappear so when he came back with a shotgun it was more than unsettling.

"Shane, no!" Rick tried to stop him but the man shoved him off.

"Out of my way, Rick! Stay out of my way!"

"This isn't helpin', man," Murphy nearly got the butt end of the gun in his face but he dodged too quickly, "You insane fucker!"

Walsh pointed the gun right in Jenner's face, "Open that door or I'm gonna blow your head off. Do you hear me?!"

"Brother," Rick implored, just inches from the bigger man's face, "Brother, you do this and we will never get out of here."

"It's too late," Shane grit out, the muzzle of the gun digging into the doctor's cheek.

"He dies, we all-" he was cut off by Walsh's sudden yell, "-we all die! Shane!"

And just like _that_ Shane started firing. Some ducked behind whatever they could find, Lori shielded Carl with her body, and Carol covered Sophia's ears. Jenner looked like his eardrums popped, face twisted in pain before he covered his head. Almost an entire row of computer monitors were taken out, only a pause for breath and the sharp click of the gun in between shots. He took out a light before whipping away from Rick's hands, looking through the site for a new target. What he saw was Murphy's frozen form, staring at him with wide eyes. His finger kissed the trigger, ready to take him out, but something inside him couldn't do it. He looked so vulnerable, pink mouth parted in fear and eyes all round and shiny like marbles in the emergency lights. He shifted his aim just a few inches and let the shell fire, taking a twisted sense of enjoyment out of the way the boy jumped and yelped like a startled animal.

Rick finally got his hands around the shotgun and wrenched it away from him, shoulder-blocking him so hard he knocked his best friend to the ground. He stood over him with the butt of the gun raised warningly, but as he looked down in the man's face he decided not to hit him. Not Shane, not _his_ Shane. Walsh looked away from him, unable to bare the sympathetic look on the other's face.

"Are you done now?" Rick lowered the gun a bit but his voice was unwavering, "Are you done?"

"Yeah, I guess we all are," Shane mocked his tone.

Rick walked away from him and handed the gun off to T-Dog, giving the man room to breath. Glenn rushed over to Murphy and started checking him for wounds despite his quiet protests, the lighter twin watching the exchange with a sharp eye.

"I think you're lying," Rick observed, slowly turning to face the doctor.

Jenner frowned, "What?"

"You're lying about no hope. If that were true, you'd have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You didn't. You chose the hard path. Why?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. It always matters. You stayed when the others ran. Why?"

The dam broke as Jenner gave the truth about Test Subject 19, his wife. She had been a genius in their field and she'd sworn him to continue working til the end. She wanted him to fight for humanity, to not give up. He'd kept that promise as best he could and now he believed it was time to give up. Daryl refused to hear another word of it and started swinging at the door with his axe, a rhythmic clanging that echoed through the room.

"_She_ could've done something about this, not me."

"Your wife didn't have a choice, you do," Rick had been trying to appeal to the man's humanity and it seemed to be working, "That's – that's all we want...a choice, a chance."

"Why?" Jenner demanded to know, "Give me one reason why you would choose that world? A world of blood and pain? Just give me _one_ reason!"

"Love."

The simple word fell from Connor's mouth without a second thought. The others quieted, looking to him curiously. The Irishman stepped forward, Jenner went back and fell into his chair. He kept going until he could drop and kneel at the doctor's feet, looking up at him imploring. He grabbed Jenner's hands in his own, holding them in the older man's lap.

"Because between all the fightin' and dyin' and screamin' there's still love out there," a smile tugged up on his lips, "The kind you don't have with you, the kind you aren't born with...that special kind between two complete strangers. That stupid, mixed up feeling is out in the world waitin' for us to find it. And don't all the stories say that's worth more than anythin' else? Conquering all the wrongs and triumphin' over evil and what not?"

Connor dropped his eyes but just for a second, "I found me somethin' real nice but it's so small and new, it ain't had time to grow. And I don't think that's real fair of life to give me somethin' so pretty only to rip me out of the world before I get a chance to see where it goes, do you?"

Jenner squeezed his hands back, expression finally cracking. He opened his mouth a few times but he couldn't choke the words past his dry throat. He couldn't say no to the man's earnest look and honest words, not when he'd seen him and the brute of a redneck disappearing into a room together. He'd seen their reactions, the way they stayed close to each other and protected one another. It was touching to see love even now with the world in the fires of hell.

"I-I told you," Jenner managed, "Topside's locked down. I can't open those."

Connor let his hands fall out of the older man's, slumping on his knees as the thought of death set in on him harder than before. While the doctor got up and went to a different station, Murphy came over and grabbed his twin beneath the arms to get him to stand. Connor hugged him tight, whispering to him in Italian how much he loved him.

Jenner swiped his card and put in the code, "You know...you two really are miracles."

The door made whooshing sound, like it was unsealing itself.

"Never let go of each other. _Ever_."

The door slide back down and open, revealing the hallway.

"Come on!" Daryl boomed from the entrance. The group roused themselves and hurried to the exit, the clock ticking down with only four minutes and some change left.

"There's your chance," Jenner offered to both the twins and Rick, "Take it."

"I'm grateful," Rick promised, reaching for the man's hand in a thank you.

"The day will come when you won't be."

Jenner took his head and dragged him closer, whispering something too low for the twins to hear. Devastation came over the sheriff's face, his movements sluggish as he backed away.

"Connor!" Daryl called, "You get your ass movin' or I'm gonna throw you over my shoulder, I fuckin' swear!"

"What are you waiting for?!" Glenn yelled, hovering at the doorway, "We've got four minutes, would you _come on_ already!"

Lori rushed forward and grabbed her husband's hand, dragging him to the ramp. The brothers shook themselves, putting fire in their heels. T-Dog had his hand on Jacqui's back and was pulling her forward, telling her to hurry.

"No, no I'm stayin'!"

Murphy froze at that, his twin rushing past him in his haste to keep up with Daryl's quick pace.

"I'm stayin', sweetie," Jacqui told him, keeping her ground.

"But that's _insane_," T-Dog growled, trying to pull her by her hand.

She got out of his grasp, "No, it's completely sane. For the first time in a long time. I'm not ending up like Jim or Amy."

"No," Murphy rushed her into a hug, holding her tight, "No fuckin' way I'm leavin' you here. Stop it and run already."

"I won't," she cupped his face gently when she pulled back, staring into his eyes, "You are blessed, Murphy. And if God had touched me the way he's touched you I would go on too."

A tear fell from his eye, she wiped it away with her thumb.

"There's no time to argue, and no point," Jacqui looked to the rest of them, "Not if I you want to get out. Get out."

She pushed the Irishman away, he was biting his lip as he tried not to sob, "Out! Go!"

"I can't leave you," Murphy fought as Glenn grabbed his arms and started dragging him up the ramp, "Nobody gets left behind, Jacqui! You didn't abandon my brother, I won't abandon you now!"

"Go, baby," she patted T-Dog's cheek, "You too. Don't you think of me again."

Shane was the one to pull T-Dog away, telling him to let it go.

**xXx**

It was a mad scramble to get all their things out of their rooms. Thankfully no one had unpacked much and it only took a minute, one precious minute. Murphy spared an extra few seconds to stuff the clothes he'd found in his duffel. The group hurried to the top floor, stairs just one more milestone for them to conquer. It was nothing in comparison to the death that awaited their loss.

It was a relief to see the light of day once they reached the top but they weren't nearly out of the woods. They tried the keypad but there was no power there, no combo to use. The doors wouldn't budge beneath their weight, not even when Connor ran a full ten feet into them. Shane and Daryl were fast to turn into a team against the windows, bringing the axes down with all the might they could muster. They got out of the way so T-Dog could try a chair against the glass but it was useless. The twins split up, Murphy working on kicking one of the locked doors open while Connor tried to cut a starting crack into a window with the Rambo knife.

"Dog, get down!" Shane warned after he loaded up the shotgun, heading up to the window, "Get down!"

They moved out of the way and he fired, the bullet knocked clean off the surface. Not a scratch, not a ding, barely a sound past the initial blast.

"Jesus," he muttered, dropping the muzzle.

"The glass won't break?" Sophia asked, her tiny voice only adding to the desperation of their situation.

"Rick?" Carol dug in her purse, approaching the sheriff, "I have something that might help."

"Carol, I don't think a nail file's gonna do it," Shane snarked unhelpfully.

"Your first morning at camp, when I washed your uniform?" she pulled a small, round object out and help it aloft, "I found this in your pocket."

Daryl spotted it and cursed, running over to Connor and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He dragged him toward the wall and threw him down, dropping down next to him and covering his head for the soon-to-come blow. Connor mimicked him for only a second before he remembered he didn't know where his twin was.

"Murph?" he picked his head up only to have the redneck put a heavy hand in his hair and shove it back down between their bodies. He realized quickly that if there any damage from the blast, Daryl had positioned himself to take most of the damage.

Murphy cursed and dropped between Glenn and T-Dog, hiding himself against the stairs as best he could.

Rick carefully laid the grenade against the window, panic seizing him the second he let go of the lever. He ran for the others, falling to a slide across the floor. Relief flooded his chest when one of Shane's meaty arms seized him before he fell down the steps, bringing him into his best friend's body to shield him from the blow. It was just a few moments in the warm scent of his partner before it blew, sending a shock wave and bright light through the facility. Glass shattered beneath the force.

They made a run for it, bags strapped to their backs and weapons in hand.

**xXx**

Pistols and axes were the heroes of the day, taking out most of the walkers. They headed toward the cars like demons themselves were nipping at their ankles, bold strides leading them past the scattered dead. Just when they got inside and were about to leave, Dale and Andrea appeared out the window. They made a run for the cars, dodging the walkers. Daryl hurried Connor into his truck while Murphy jumped into the RV.

They had seconds.

Once the pair was close enough, Lori screamed at them to get down.

"Hurry!" Murphy grabbed Glenn and pulled him into the back, Rick yelling at them to duck down. He pulled the Korean down onto the floor with him, pressed close.

In the truck, Daryl laced his hands across the back of Connor's head and pushed it down. He covered the Irishman as best he could, hoping the windows didn't bust on the blow. Fingers suddenly curled in his hair, heavy pants shaking the body half beneath his own. _This_ was his. This connection, this man, these feelings – they belonged to him. This warm, living man could take care of himself but at the moment he felt so fragile beneath him. Like holding a squirming, mewling newborn kitten in your palm and knowing you had the power of life and death over it.

"Daryl," Connor rasped, "I-"

And then it blew The entire building, _gone_. Most didn't see it but everyone heard it, a deafening boom that rocked their cars on their suspensions. There was a heat and light, stronger than the grenade and twice as dangerous. Slowly they started to sit up, finding only the smoldering remains of the CDC. Rubble and flames, it looked as if it had been swallowed down into the Earth.

Glenn would later deny the way he was clutching to Murphy's hand behind the seats, too scared to do anything more than watch the fire swirl like an inferno.

Daryl slowly raised up, bringing his friend up with him. They were both trying to catch their breath, Connor's hand laying on the redneck's thigh and squeezing as he saw what had become of the CDC. Daryl let out a sharp breath in relief, letting the seat take all his weight. They didn't look away from the scene but the older man shadowed the fingers on his thigh, lacing them together. They'd made it.

And more importantly, they'd made it together.

* * *

**_Josim_**** = Be careful**

**_Yeppeun_**** = pretty**

**THAT WAS SEASON ONE! Can you believe it? I totally can't. That was such a big chapter too. I won't rant, I'll just let you enjoy what we just shared. I just have three things for you:**

**1. Would you like to see a whole chapter dedicated to what happened to the boys and the other group in Atlanta? Or just have Murphy dream about it or something?**

**2. Give me your ideas for Season 2, maybe even 3 if you have strong thoughts. What do you want to see? What do you want to change? What do you just NOT want to happen?**

**3. Review, I beg you! Shameless begging!**


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